Voyage
by SleepingwithinWater
Summary: A new life, a new home - again. Caught in-between a fiercely protective handler and an internal struggle for normality and freedom, Éponine struggles to readjust to her new world. And with dozens of secrets still surrounding her and her past, will she ever be able to return to the home she grew to love? (E/É AU - Book 2 of 3)
1. Mrs Audrey Polichie

**A/N: Welcome to 'Voyage!' Hopefully you've read the predecessor to this story – 'Witness.' If not, you should probably go back and do that, otherwise, this will make no sense. As for those who have been with me since the beginning of our trilogy, sit back and enjoy. :D (Also, I decided to add the story today since it was finished. This week I will update Monday and Friday; next week I should be able to start the Monday/Wednesday/Friday routine.)**

**Don't forget to read/review/PM me.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to their proper owners.**

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Chapter One: _Mrs. Audrey Polichie_

.::.

_December 15__th__; West Bath, Maine._

.::.

He found it quite off that he could no longer remember her face. He'd never even considered in their few short months of dating that taking a picture – any picture – of her would prove to be the most important photo he'd ever taken. But he had none and so Veronica's memory was barely alive, hanging by a mere thread in Enjolras' mind. The first week after she'd left – been _taken –_ he'd lived like a tornado. He did everything he could to try and find her. He'd gone so far as to use his job as a lawyer to try and coerce the police into giving him information.

That move only left him unemployed and drunk.

Enjolras had never liked drink; it didn't settle well in his stomach and he could barely keep it down sometimes. But Veronica's sudden departure had thrown him into a frenzy looking for solace. Whiskey – hard whiskey – had been his only constant.

He was ashamed of the way he acted. His friend offered him comfort, of course; even after his fight with Courfeyrac, they remained true. For a time. Enjolras' obsession with finding her grew too strong. Eventually, they slipped away at last, stopping by to make sure he was still alive on occasions. Grantaire, even, had told him that he needed to stop drinking. It was pathetic.

Months passed and still he found nothing. It was as if she'd never existed. He realized one day, a particularly bright and sunny day, that he loved her. Enjolras loved Veronica wholeheartedly; it made him want to puke. He'd never told her; but at the time he hadn't know just how much she meant to him, how much he wanted her in his life. The day she left haunted his mind constantly. The black SUVs, the men in sunglasses – it was like something out of an awful spy movie. And he'd just stood there like an ass and done nothing to stop it. Oh god, he loved her.

Why hadn't he done anything?!

Enjolras leaned back on the couch, lifting his bottle of beer to his lips. He sighed deeply, his eyes lingering on the TV flashing some awful reality show. Finishing the bottle in hand, he tossed it onto the floor, listening to it clatter and clang along with the rest of the bottles scattered about the apartment.

The phone rang.

Jumping to his feet, he rushed to the telephone, slipping on the tile floor in his socks. He missed the call by a few seconds, falling onto his knees, grabbing the phone from the receiver. Leaning against the counter, he pressed the phone against his forehead, waiting for the message to begin.

"_Ah, Enj, it's R – again. Ry and I are headed up to my parent's house for Christmas pretty early this year, and since I figured you did have any plans, we – I wanted to know if you'd be open to coming? It's in Michigan and – yeah, well, we're leaving in a couple of days. Just let me know."_

The message beeped.

Maybe he would take them up on their offer.

Getting out of Maine would be good for him, wouldn't it?

He pulled the phone away from his forehead and quickly called Grantaire back. "I'll go," he said, quietly, hanging up before his friend could answer.

Veronica's memory couldn't follow him to Michigan.

Right?

.::.

_December 15th__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

"I fucking swear, Éponine! You can't take this lightly any more. Don't you understand that?"

Éponine turned away from Jason, throwing the dirty pot into the sink with a loud clatter. She nodded and turned on the water, running her hands underneath it. "Yes, I understand. I just don't see the harm – "

Jason, a man slightly taller than Enjolras, with dark, short black hair, and a well-toned figured, slammed his hands down onto the granite counter. "Whether you like it or not, we are married. I'm here to both protect you and to keep you from making another dumbass decision that could get you kicked out of the country – "

"I didn't ask to get married, okay?! It wasn't like it was my idea to leave Maine!" She turned off the water, turning around, her hands covered in suds.

"Neither was it mine!" Jason lowered his voice, focusing on the island counter-top. "If we want to live out the rest of our days together in relative peace, then you need to listen to me. And try and act like you love me, okay? Can you do that?"

Rubbing her hands into a dish towel laying nearby on the counter, Éponine stared at the diamond ring on her finger. She nodded solemnly. If she made one wrong step, she'd be gone, out of America. For Gavroche's sake, she'd have to put up with Jason – for the time being, at least.

After leaving West Bath, Bailey had given Gav and Éponine new identities: a Mrs. Audrey Polichie and her nephew, Isaac. For her own safety, Éponine was married off to Jason Renolds, a field agent – also known to those of the suburbs of San Antonio as Mr. William Polichie, a business tycoon. According to Bailey, after five years, if both Éponine and Jason were in agreement, they were allowed to get a divorce. But until then, she was stuck with him. The three were put up into an old colonial style house in the expensive end of the suburbs. To Éponine, its only good qualities was its pristine white siding and the wrap-around porch; plus, it was incredibly large – leaving a lot of space for her to avoid Jason's company.

"Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine." Stalking out of the kitchen, Éponine was thankful the doorbell had rung. Anything to get her away from Jason's judgmental glare and attitude. Before she opened the door, she plastered on a false smile, shaking herself free of her irritation.

She threw open the door, unsurprised to see Missy Lapoe on the other side. "Missy!" she said, her voice throwing itself up two octaves.

Missy Lapoe, resident head-honcho of the PTO, and HOA, and basically anything else that needed a leader, offered Éponine a covered coffee cake, her white teeth shinning in the dark of the night. "Just a little something-something since I heard that Willie wasn't sick anymore."

Éponine took the confectionery from Missy's hands, turning around to place it in Jason's waiting arms. Missy stood a little straighter, fixing her teased blond hair. Even though she'd been happily married for five years and was a mother of three, every time Jason showed up Missy turned on the charm.

"Hey, Willie." Her thick, Southern draw made Éponine's blood boil.

Jason rested his free hand on Éponine's shoulder. As always, he played the doting husband to Éponine and the loving uncle to Gavroche; it was just Éponine who had difficulty playing the doting wife. "Hello, Missy."

She laughed lightly, placing her left hand at the bottom of her hair, twirling it between her fingers. "Glad you're feeling better."

He nodded, smiling through tight lips. "Thank you. For this, too." He raised the coffee cake container into the air, nodding once more with appreciation.

Missy clucked her tongue and waved her hand, shaking her head. "It's nothing." After a long pause, her eyes settled on Éponine's and she clasped her hands together. "Well, y'all have a good night." She took a step back before raising a finger. "Uh – Audrey, you're coming to the church benefit, right? Preparations for Christmas?"

Éponine opened her mouth to refuse, but she felt Jason squeeze her shoulder. "Yes, of course. Wouldn't miss it for anything." Her chest tightened as she nodded.

Missy's smile – which shined so brightly – shamed the moon. "Wonderful! I'll see you on Thursday then, okay? Oh, this is just going to be great. I know that you're new to the area and everything, but it's never too late to start getting involved, right?" She laughed. "Sorry to keep you. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Missy." Éponine closed the door before Mrs. Lapoe was off the front porch. "The nerve of that woman," she whispered, brushing away from Jason, toward the large staircase, across from the door.

Jason chuckled. "You would think we were actually in love or something. Every time she shows up, you go as red as a beet."

Éponine frowned. "I don't love you."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "I struggle to understand, though, if you even know what love means." He walked away slowly, obviously biding his time before Éponine lashed out again. Instead of biting his head off, like she wished she could, Éponine gripped the banister of the staircase tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"You don't know jack-shit, Jason," she said, before stomping up the stairs, down the hall, and into her room. She slammed the door shut; Gav was away at basketball practice, so she didn't have to worry about Jason coming upstairs to settle the matter. He had to leave soon to pick him up at the YMCA.

When she first moved into the house on Lanebrook Avenue, she was worried Jason would want to share a room with her – just to drive home their lie a little further. Luckily, he was as opposed to the idea as she was. He took the guest bedroom, and she the master suite, while Gavroche was set up in one of the rooms opposite Jason's. Whenever they hosted a dinner party (which had only happened once) or Missy invited her family over for dinner, Jason shut his room up and if someone asked for a tour of the house, Éponine's room looked exactly like any married couple's room.

Éponine had little personal items. Unlike in Maine, where she had one sole picture of herself, Gavroche, and Ezelma, her room in Texas was clear of any inkling of her past life. All of the picture's her students had drawn her from West Bath Elementary had been burned. Bailey had quite literally burned them in his office trashcan. The only things she'd been allowed to keep were her college diploma – her name was changed on the paper – and the letter Enjolras had given to her on her first day of teaching. She'd framed them both, hanging them on the wall in unabashed glory. Whenever someone asked her who Jack was, she lied and said it was a college boyfriend who died of cancer.

Falling onto the king size bed, Éponine groaned loudly.

Her stomach hurt. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt.

If anything good had come out of her move to Texas, it was that she had little time to think of Enjolras. Throughout September, October, and November, both Jason and Bailey had been riding her butt: keeping incredibly close tabs on where she went, who she talked to, who her friends were. She was a prisoner in the second largest state in the United States. She had no time to think of the life she'd left, of the people she'd abandoned.

Of course, at the end of the day, when she went to bed and clocked out of her life as Audrey Polichie, thoughts of Enjolras, and Grantaire, and Ryan plagued her with guilt and fear. Bailey had mentioned that the WPP would take care of Adrienne; Éponine just assumed she was paid off when she no longer received texts or emails. But as for the other three, Enjolras had to know that she'd been lying. He must of figured it out.

The day after she left, Éponine had received a phone call from Ryan, but she couldn't answer. At the time, she was in Washington, D.C., waiting to be placed again. She'd cried for the first time since she realized there was no going back. In the middle of an office building, she'd cried like a baby. Ryan was her first friend in West Bath, her dearest friend. She would never see him again.

Grantaire gave up on her completely. Éponine wasn't surprised.

Gavroche, too, continued to give her the cold shoulder.

She had no friends, no job, no purpose. She was a Southern housewife to a man (although attractive) she hardly knew. All she did was laze about the house, flipping through the TV, or go out shopping. God knew she had money to blow now.

All in all, Éponine was not miserable. She was heart-broken, but she'd been heart-broken before; she just hoped it would go away soon. Really, in all honesty, she was bored.

Bored of living.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

Sitting up on the end of the bed, she brushed her hair out of her face. "What?"

Jason opened the door, nearly filling the whole door frame. He held a CD case in his hand. "I think you should take a look at this."

Éponine crossed her arms. "What is it?"

He placed it on the desk adjacent to the door. "Just look at it. It may ease your mind at little."

"What if I don't want to?"

Jason sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Then that is your problem." He cracked his neck. "I'm going to go get Gav. I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

Éponine didn't answer.

Jason lingered for a moment before he backed away down the hall and then ran down the stairs, his heavy-footed feet making the house shake slightly. Éponine stared at the CD case and listened for the garage door to open. When it did, and she was sure Jason was gone, she slowly stood up and picked the CD case up, weighing it in her hand. There was no writing on the CD itself.

Shaking her head, she threw it back onto the desk, turning around and gathering her shower things. Whatever it was, she didn't care.


	2. Answers

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews! Remember to tell me what you want to see. (Wee announcement: I have an AP European History exam next month, so we're getting to crunch time. For now, I'm only going to update Mondays and Fridays, but after May 14****th****, I can resume Monday-Wednesday-Friday – hopefully.)**

**(Second announcement: Before you get ahead of me and start asking, there will be no romantic involvement between Jason and ****É****ponine.)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Chapter Two: _Answers_

.::.

_December 19__th__;_ _San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

The CD mocked Éponine from its place on the desk. She had not yet touched it; she'd barely even glanced at it. With the Christmas season right around the corner and Missy's insistence on a block Christmas party, both Éponine and Jason were swamped. She was swamped trying to find gifts and he was swamped trying to keep up with her. But after dinner, when everyone had retired to their bedrooms for the night, the CD called her over continuously. Éponine had brushed it with her wrist on accident when she placed a folder holding recipes on the far end of the desk. She'd glanced at it and then moved away, changing into her pajamas. Once settled into bed, the TV quietly playing "Keeping up with the Kardashians," she felt an itching in the back of her head.

Finally, she could take it no longer. Throwing herself off the end of the bed, Éponine grabbed the CD case and ripped it open, forcefully shoving it into the DVD player hooked up to the TV. She sat on the end of her bed, twiddling her thumbs together nervously. Out in the hall, she heard Gavroche's door open and then close. The screen turned from black to white, fading to June – the owner of _Le Musain –_ sitting in a metal chair behind a metal desk, in what appeared to be a questioning room in a police department. Éponine's brows furrowed.

June looked at her shirt and adjusted the small mic attached to the collar of her shirt. _"I just talk then?"_

A voice somewhere in front of her answered. _"Yes."_

June nodded and shifted in her seat, turning to glance at the camera, and then off center slightly, most likely facing someone before her. _"My name is June Barr and I am the current owner of Justin and June's."_

Éponine tilted her head to the side. Was this video taken after the fire? She noted June's obviously grey hair. The last time she'd seen June, the woman's hair was definitely not that grey.

"_I got involved with the Witness Protect Program about twenty years ago when a dear friend of mine was involved in embezzlement. He was placed into the Program after he testified against his boss, who instigated the embezzling,"_ June said; she paused, glancing down. _"I began working part-time for the Program: helping people adjust to their new lives once they reached West Bath. Most people don't know it, but the majority of the people living in West Bath are part of the Program." _She chuckled. _"So, when I was informed about Miss Jondrette's arrival and situation, I did whatever I could to keep her safe. I gave her a job at my old establishment – a caf__é__. Several months after her arrival, I received word of her mother attempting to find her. Her mother escaped from prison and somehow found out about Miss Jondrette's involvement in the Program."_

Éponine's heart clenched; she fisted her hands into the bedsheets.

"_I made the mistake of suing the girl's mother. It obviously sparked her interest, and when I realized what I had done, I made the decision to burn down the caf__é__. All of the papers and info I had accumulated about Miss Jondrette's previous life burnt with it."_

The video abruptly ended.

Éponine stared blankly at the screen for several long minutes. When the screen finally turned to blue, signaling the end of the CD's contents, she stood slowly, turning off the TV. Éponine drummed her fingers on the TV stand, glancing at the door. Her heart raced. June had known? She'd known all along about Éponine's lie? Maybe that was why she was so quick to give her a job. Éponine didn't even have to fill out a resume.

There was a timid knock on Éponine's door. She opened it, unsurprised to see Jason's face behind the wood-frame. "Can we talk?" His voice was sincere. Éponine faltered slightly, but nodded, following him out into the hall. "Downstairs."

Éponine lead the way into the kitchen, pulling out two mugs and the ingredients for her mother's famous hot chocolate. As she set about making the drink, her chin quivered slightly. Her mother had escaped from jail. She could be anywhere; probably doing all she could to find her son and daughter. More than anything in that moment, Éponine wished she had Enjolras' shoulder to lean on. She shook the feeling off, though, when Jason began talking.

"Did you watch the video?"

Éponine nodded, her back turned.

"Bailey gave it to me. He told me I should give it to you whenever you needed it most."

Éponine turned around, handing Jason a mug of hot chocolate. She curled her fingers around her own mug, lifting it to her lips. "Why would you give it to me now?"

Jason shrugged, leaning on the counter. "I thought you may need it." He sighed and sat on the bar-stool, motioning for her to sit on the one next to him. When she hesitated, he lifted his hands. "I just want to talk, Éponine."

"Fine." She sat on the bar-stool next to him, keeping her eyes trained ahead.

"I – I think that we need to figure out how we're going to live from now on," he said, his words calculated and slow.

"What do you mean?" Éponine set her mug on the island, her brows raised as she faced him.

"You and I – we're a team now. We both have to work at keeping our secret safe. I think – I think we should start spending more time together, working out our stories. Half the time someone asks us a personal question, we dodge it with another question; the other half, we make an excuse to leave. We can't do that forever."

"I don't want – "

"I know that you love Jack. I have my own girlfriend, as well. Well, I did, but the point is, we cannot keep Gavroche safe if we refuse to work together. This has to be semi-real, if not totally real."

Éponine rubbed the underside of her nose, looking away. She'd never thought about whether or not this may be hard for Jason. He completely left his family, his friends, his life, to protect her. How could she continue to be so selfish about her sadness and her wishes when he'd made the bigger sacrifice.

"You're right," she whispered, facing him again. She reached over and took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "Thank you."

Jason shrugged. "It's my job, ma'am." He chuckled, patting their joined hands with his opposite one. "We've got the Christmas party tomorrow. Why don't you go get some rest?"

Éponine nodded, smiling timidly. She slid off of the bar-stool. "And you?"

"I've got some work to take care of."

"Alright. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight, Audrey," he said, moving to the sink.

Éponine turned around. "Goodnight, Willie."

.::.

_December 19__th__; Holt, Michigan._

.::.

Grantaire's mother and father moved to Michigan almost immediately after Grantaire's high-school graduation. They gave no reason other than wanting to find somewhere bigger, less sleepy than West Bath. Enjolras didn't blame them. The trio – silent and sullen – arrived at the Grantaire family home half-past six. Their plane had been delayed because of snow and being cramp on a plane for an extra two hours, sitting in an Ohio runway, had caused Enjolras' mood to plummet from bad to worse.

Lucy, Grantaire's younger sister by two years, opened the door when Grantaire knocked, squealing with delight at the sight of her brother. She didn't even say hello; she just ran back inside to alert her parents of their arrival. Stepping out of the cold, into the foyer, Enjolras surveyed his surroundings. It was a modest home: plain and simple, much like Grantaire's parents. The walls were painted a dull yellow and photos of family trips and school pictures adorned the walls. Megan and Lorenzo followed Lucy out of the dining room, their faces glowing. Grantaire dropped his suitcase handle and rushed forward, pulling his family into a group hug; Ryan and Enjolras hung awkwardly in the back. Unlike Ryan and Enjolras' families alike, the Grantaires were a tight-knit family. Nearly everything they did, they did together. It reminded Enjolras of the time his own mother had forced her family into matching sweathers for a family portrait – expect the Grantaires were actually happy.

"Axel, it's so wonderful to see you." Grantaire's mother pulled away and focused her attention on Enjolras, walking over to wrap him in a hug as big as the one she'd given Grantaire. "Jacky, darling, how good of you to come!"

Enjolras winced. He'd forgotten about the nick-name.

Megan was away before he could mention it. "And this must be Ryan. Oh, we've heard so much about you." She hugged Ryan, as well. Lorenzo just shook each man's hand. "Well, come in, you three, and get settled."

After it was made very clear that Grantaire, Enjolras, and Ryan would be sharing a room for the next two weeks, Grantaire left to get some of the food leftover from dinner. Ryan and Enjolras began unpacking their things.

"You know, her name is Éponine."

Enjolras stopped unpacking, glaring at Ryan. "What?"

Ryan looked up from his suitcase. "Veronica isn't her actual name."

"Why are you saying this?"

"You got a tattoo of a v. V for Veronica, except that's not her name." Ryan pointed to Enjolras' left wrist. His shirt sleeve had been rolled back, revealing a slightly pink, but unmistakeable v on his skin. It was small, not extremely obvious, but definitely there.

"You've already said that twice. And I know." Enjolras rolled his shirt sleeve back.

"Then why get a v?"

"Because I've only ever known her as Veronica."

Ryan paused, sniffing. "She's not coming back."

"You don't know that."

"She's not coming back," he repeated, quieter; more to himself than Enjolras.

Jack didn't reply.

After Ryan left to eat as well, Enjolras grabbed the telephone book from the back of the closet, looking up the nearest tattoo parlor. His phone call lasted ten minutes.

He had an appointment to get the tattoo covered for the next day.

.::.

_December 21__st__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

"Audrey! Willie! Come in, come in!" Missy opened the door of her home – _mansion_ – welcoming in the last guests of the Christmas party. "Oh, and Isaac, too. It's wonderful to have you all."

Gavroche stuck to Jason's side, his hand firmly clutching Jason's. Missy regarded the pair with a confused smirk. After a tense moment, Éponine cleared her throat. "Where can I put these?" She lifted her side-dish.

"I'll take it, dear." Missy took the load from Éponine's hand and bustled away.

"Why don't you go play with the other kids?" Jason asked calmly, bending down to Gavroche's height. It took a few moments, but Jason was finally able to untangle himself from Gavroche and send him off to play with the others. Before entering the home entirely, Jason placed his hand in the small of Éponine's back.

"What's wrong with him?" Éponine asked lowly. Since they had left West Bath, Gavroche had refused to talk to Éponine more than was absolutely necessary. It broke her heart.

Jason shrugged. "I think it was just a hard day." He removed his hand from her back, extending it to shake hands with Ken, Missy's husband. "Hello, Ken."

"William, nice to see you." Ken's lips formed a tight smile. "And Audrey, hello."

Éponine smiled graciously. "Ken."

"How's work?" Jason asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"It's running smoothly. The business has hardly gotten off – "

"Ken!" Missy appeared behind her husband's side. "How rude of you to not offer the Polichies a drink. Would you like anything?"

Éponine swallowed, shaking her head out of embarrassment for Ken. Jason, too, shook his head. Missy swatted Ken's shoulder before flouncing away. Ken gripped his cup tightly, his knuckles white. Silence ruled the trio.

Éponine raised her eyebrows. "I heard that you've taken out stock in Texas Tech."

Ken's mood shifted, his face brightening. "Yes, ma'am. I figured that if their run could – "

He continued, rambling about some team Éponine barely paid attention to. Jason placed his hand on her shoulder, smiling gently at her. He mouthed a small 'thank you.' She returned her attention to Ken's words, leaning into Jason when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

Like always, her heart clenched out of thought for Enjolras, but her mind repeated the same words over and over: _You're safe. You're safe. You're safe._

* * *

**Not much of a second chapter, but it's going to take awhile to get the ball rolling. Bear with me.**


	3. Christmas Day

**A/N:Thanks for all the reviews. I beg you to tell me what you want to see in this fic! Seriously. I have an outline, but the majority is blank for now. I wanna add what you wanna see, so please, please tell me.**

**Like usual, the first several chapters are very slow. Sorry about that!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Chapter Three: _Christmas Day_

.::.

_December 25__th__; Holt, Michigan._

.::.

"Enj, it's your turn." Lucy nudged Enjolras with her knee, handing him a wrapped package. She was fair in complexion and hair, unlike Grantaire's dark skin and hair. As children, Lucy had always hung around the older boys, intent on carving out a spot for herself in their tightly knit group. At first, it had irritated Enjolras to no end – Grantaire, too. But after awhile – especially after she turned sixteen and blossomed in every way imaginable – he, and the rest of _Les Amis _(save for Grantaire), relented slightly. By that time, though, Lucy had drifted and found her own interests.

She was only twenty-three, exactly one year younger than Enjolras to the day. Jammed next to her on the couch that held four, but should only hold two, Enjolras couldn't help but feel slightly light-headed. Her hair smelled of berries. Enjolras cleared his throat, taking the package from her hand. He looked away, sure his cheeks were stained with color. What was wrong with him? Maybe he'd had too much spiked egg-nog.

"Thanks," he said quietly, looking around at the eager faces staring back at him. He unwrapped the package slowly, like always, folding the wrapping paper and placing it on the floor. It was labeled from Grantaire; if it was anything like the gift Grantaire had given him before, Enjolras would be on his way to the store to return it in no time.

Grantaire groaned. "Open the damn thing!"

Mrs. Grantaire shushed him. "Leave him be, Axel."

He looked to his left, past Lucy, his eyes piercing Grantaire's. The other man nodded, urging him on. On the floor, Lorenzo leaned closer to his wife. "What is it?" he whispered loudly.

Enjolras stared at the black picture frame in his lap. The photo enclosed inside of it was a black-and-white photo of Grantaire, Ryan, and Éponine on their graduation day. Éponine stood in the middle, holding one hand on her slightly askew graduation cap, which looked as if it might fall off her head at any moment. She smiled brightly, her face shining. Grantaire stood on the left side of her, his arm thrown over her shoulder; he stood proudly, his chest puffed. Ryan was on her right side, holding his cap in his hand, pushing up his sunglasses with his other.

"It's not much," Grantaire said. "But it was the only photo I could find of – "

Enjolras hastily shoved the frame on the small pile of gifts at his feet. "It's nice. Thank you." He folded his hands in his laps, leaning forward. "Lorenzo, I believe it is your turn, correct?"

Lorenzo glanced between his son and his son's best friend. After a long, tense moment, he nodded. "Yes, I believe it is. Ryan, can you hand me that big box over there?"

While Lorenzo busied himself with opening the box, and everyone else busied themselves with watching him, Enjolras felt another nudge of Lucy's leg. He turned his head, his eyebrows raised.

"She's really very pretty," Lucy mentioned, nodding toward the frame.

Enjolras looked away.

"Axel told me."

"How kind of him to spread my personal tragedy across the whole Grantaire family." Enjolras sat up straight, his voice low but biting.

Lucy's jaw dropped slightly, but she quickly closed her mouth. "You don't have to be a dick, Jacky."

"Don't call me that." Enjolras turned his head sharply. His angry eyes met her undetermined ones.

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "You're like – like a brother to me and a son to my parents. Try not to ruin Christmas with your awful attitude, okay?" She turned away, focusing on her father's new set of mixing glasses for their dining room bar.

Enjolras licked his lips, looking at the floor. His left wrist, which one held a v, now held a tattoo of a rose, dark and large enough to cover his previous tattoo. It spanned from the bottom of his hand two inches down, rolling over slightly onto the top of his arm. He still wasn't sure why he'd picked a rose, but he liked it well-enough. He rolled his shirt-sleeve down and crossed his arms.

Their Christmas be damned.

As far as he was concerned, all he had left to be focused on was making it to the next day.

.::.

_December 25__th__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

Christmas had always been Éponine's favorite holiday. And even though she was no longer in West Bath with the ones she loved, she'd still found a way to make this Christmas better than her last. She even went so far as to admit that she felt the slightest bit happy and content. When Jason piled her and her brother into the car to go find the perfect tree, her shoulders felt lighter. And when they'd had a gingerbread house making contest, her heart lifted from the pit it had buried itself in.

Éponine could feel herself finally settling in, falling into motion with Jason and Gavroche.

On Christmas morning, like every single year, Gavroche burst into her room bright and early. She was slightly surprised when he did, though; since they weren't on speaking terms, when the door burst open and banged into the wall, she'd figured intruders had found her first. But it was only her brother who was jumping with joy at the foot of her bed.

"It's Christmas! It's Christmas!" he cried. Before Éponine could roll back underneath her covers, Gavroche ripped them from her body, tossing them to the floor. The cold air shocked her awake. He left the room, pounding down the stairs.

Éponine sighed and rolled out of bed, reaching for her furry, pink robe, slipping her slim arms into the sleeves. Jason passed her open bedroom door, his eyes dark. He waved a limp hand, smiling weakly. "Merry Christmas," he said as Éponine joined him in the hall.

"Merry Christmas," she replied, her voice quiet. She followed him down the stairs, passing Gavroche sitting in front of the Christmas tree in the living room, eagerly counting his presents. "You shouldn't have gotten him so much," she noted.

Jason shrugged, glancing over his shoulder. "We have money now. Besides, the kid could use some happiness."

Éponine nodded, taking the mug of hot chocolate from his hands. Even if there was no snow on the ground outside, the air still whipped around bitterly, creating a roaring sound outside of the windows. "I hope you didn't get him anything too big. I don't want him becoming entitled."

Jason laughed loudly; the sound echoed in the kitchen. To Éponine, it sounded foreign. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed – really, _really _laughed. "Don't worry." When the coffee maker beeped, Jason poured himself a mug. "Just enjoy today, Éponine. Please."

She rolled her eyes, walking into the living room where she fell onto the couch with a huff. "If I absolutely have to."

Jason sat on the white ottoman in front of the couch. "Alright, little man. Go ahead."

Gavroche dug greedily into his pile of presents, the wrapping paper flying through the air. Jason smirked and stood, gathering three wrapped presents. He placed them beside Éponine's feet. She raised an eyebrow, setting her mug on the side-table.

"I told you not to get me anything," she said, as she reached for the gifts.

"I didn't listen."

Éponine opened the first box. It was a brand new phone; she shook her head, remembering how Bailey had taken her old one.

"Technically, that's from Bailey," Jason supplied. He turned his attention away for a moment when Gavroche handed him something that needed to be cut. Éponine opened her second gift. An iPhone case for her phone. "And that's from Gav," Jason said, turning back to her.

The third and final gift was a small box. She glanced at Jason, who had turned away. Inside of the box rested a small, silver locket, shaped into an oval. On the rim of the oval, small dots had been impressed and they swirled into the middle. She opened it; a picture of herself, Grantaire, and Ryan from their graduation day lay inside. Her heart clenched and her nostrils flared as she tried to push away the sudden wave of emotion that hit her.

"Jay – "

Jason colored brightly. "If you don't want it, I can take it back. I found the picture in one of the boxes June sent me after you left. It was the only one there, so I figured it must be pretty special."

Éponine brushed her fingertips over the photo. "It's lovely." She smiled, looking up. Her arms extended, holding out the necklace. "Will you put it on me?"

Jason coughed, a sip of coffee choking him momentarily. "Course. Yeah."

Éponine turned around, her back facing Jason. She pulled her hair to the side and lifted her chin slightly. The cold of the silver hitting her chest felt like nothing compared to her stomach revolting. Jason's fingers brushed the back of her neck as he pulled away; Éponine cleared her throat. She turned around and stood up, going to the Christmas tree, a piece of wrapping paper sticking to the bottom of her foot. She bent down and picked up a long box, handing it to Jason.

"I lied, too, and got you something."

He unwrapped it quickly, finding a gold plated watch. He looked up, smirking. "Thanks." She nodded in return. "Well, what do you guys want for Christmas dinner because I forgot to buy a ham?"

.::.

_December 25__th__; Holt, Michigan._

.::.

Enjolras didn't realize he was drunk. The feeling was so normal now, that not being drunk was foreign. Long after all the presents had been opened and Christmas dinner had been eaten, Megan and Lorenzo left like they did every year to visit Lorenzo's ailing mother. They would be gone for two days at the most and had left strict rules for the four left behind.

Even if everyone was above the age of twenty, Megan still expected her rules to be followed.

And that meant no getting drunk.

And no "funny business."

Enjolras broke both of those rules not even an hour after they left.

Grantaire and Ryan sneaked off to their room almost immediately leaving Enjolras and Lucy alone in the living room. Lucy settled down in front of "It's A Wonderful Life," while Enjolras rooted around in the fridge for a beer. He successfully found two and decided that there couldn't be any harm done in watching the movie with her. He was drunk within minutes; even if he grew to hold alcohol well, he still had yet to build up an immunity to the substance.

As the movie progressed, Enjolras scooted closer to Lucy on the small loveseat. She didn't pull away, but didn't reciprocate his advances as well. Near the pivotal point of the movie, in which George Bailey sees his life as though he were never born, Lucy finally turned to face him. Their faces rested inches apart; Enjolras planted a sloppy kiss on her lips. Lucy's eyes widened for a moment, before closing. She leaned into the kiss. By the end of the movie, Enjolras had Lucy draped across the loveseat, his shirt and hers discarded onto the floor.

Lucy pulled away suddenly, pressing her palm to her forehead. "Jack," she breathed, her voice hot and heavy. Enjolras focused his attention to her neck, no longer paying attention. "Jack."

Enjolras groaned, removing his lips from her neck. "What?"

"Stop."

He sat up, running his hands through his hair, clearing his throat. "Goodnight, Lucy."

"Goodnight," she whispered, her voice faulty.

Enjolras gathered his shirt from the floor and walked upstairs into the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. His lips were swollen from kissing too much and too hard and his chest heaved. Enjolras' chin suddenly began to quiver. He fisted his left hand and pulled it back, slamming it into the mirror with a cry of rage. Blood trickled down his knuckles and tiny shards of glass embedded themselves into his skin. With a shaky sigh, he slid to the floor, his back resting against the wall.

His heart beat thumped over and over: _É__ponine. __É__ponine. __É__ponine._


	4. Colorado Dreamin'

**A/N: Your input has been duly noted. :D Keep the suggestions coming! I am aiming for this story to be around twenty or so chapters, by the way.**

**(After some consultation with **_**insignificantramblings **_**we decided that Jason looks a whole lot like James McCavoy in Atonement. You're welcome.)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Four: _Colorado Dreamin'_

.::.

_December 26__th__; Holt, Michigan._

.::.

"Where are you going?"

Enjolras didn't turn around and acknowledge Grantaire's question until after he'd shoved the last of his clothes back into his suitcase. "Colorado," he said, lifting the suitcase off of the bed and onto the floor.

Grantaire leaned against the door-frame, smirking. "No you're not."

Enjolras frowned, and in lieu of answering, pulled out his plane ticket. "I bought this last night."

Grantaire pushed away from the door-frame, his arms dropping to his sides. His face cleared of any amusement and filled with concern. "Where are you going?" he asked again, this time his voice full of confused awe.

"Like I said – Colorado."

"Why? When?" Grantaire followed Enjolras at the heels as the other man gathered his few belongings and walked down the stairs. At the foot of the stairs, Enjolras sighed and set his suitcase down sharply.

"Because I want to see a mountain. And right about now." He glanced out of the window beside the front door. Sure enough, exactly on time, a yellow cab waiting to take him to the airport was sitting in front of the driveway. Grantaire saw the cab, as well; his anxiety only mounted more.

"You can't leave now!" His words were futile, as were his actions to try and close the door when Enjolras gripped the handle. "What are you doing?"

Enjolras ripped the door handle out of Grantaire's gasp. He marched down the driveway and motioned for the cabbie to pop the trunk lid. When it opened slightly, Enjolras threw it open the rest of the way, tossing his suitcase into the back with a small grunt.

"I'm going to Colorado, R." Enjolras sighed as he slowly closed the trunk. "I need wide open space – to think and breathe. This has nothing to do with you."

"I think you're making a mistake." Grantaire took a small step back, his bare-feet crunching the snow beneath; oddly enough, the cold had yet to pierce him.

"Think that all you want." Enjolras hugged his coat closer as a sharp wind whipped past him. "Besides, your sister and I almost fucked last night, so I don't think you'd want me staying around too much anymore."

Grantaire's jaw dropped and his face contorted; Enjolras braced himself for a jab to the face, but the blow never came. Instead, Grantaire chuckled. Enjolras opened his eyes. The brown haired man stuck out his hand; Enjolras gratefully shook it.

"Call me when you land," Grantaire whispered.

"I will."

"Excuse me, mister, but the meter is running!" The cabbie stuck his head out of the window, waving his gloved hand, beckoning Enjolras forward.

"Take care of yourself, Jack." Grantaire clasped his friend's shoulder tightly.

Enjolras swallowed hard, nodding. "Of course."

Grantaire let his hand fall as he took a step back. "Catch ya 'round."

Enjolras opened the car door and waved before stepping inside, slamming the door shut. As he rolled away from Holt, Michigan, Enjolras had zero regrets.

.::.

_December 28__th__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

The hype of Christmas had settled down three days later. Gavroche had grown bored of most of his presents already and he'd reverted back to lazing about the house. He'd even admitted missing school once at dinner. Jason, too, began to show signs of cabin-fever. To Éponine, it was all comical. She'd grown accustomed to the antsy feeling in her limbs and the constant drumming of her fingers.

"Are there any good movies out?" Gavroche asked, rolling onto his back on the hardwood floor of the living room.

Jason looked up from his book; he pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'm not sure." He glanced at Éponine. "Do you know?"

She shook her head, turning the page of Jane Eyre. "Nope."

Gavroche rose his arms into the arm and then slapped them back onto the floor with a quiet _humph_. "Then what should we do?"

"Read," Jason and Éponine said in unison; they stared at one another for a moment, amused smiles playing on their lips.

"I don't wanna read."

"That's unfortunate," Éponine said, looking over the rim of her book. Gavroche had his eyes trained on her, but when she looked over, he quickly looked away.

"Can't I watch a movie or something?"

"No." Jason took a sip of his coffee.

Gavroche groaned. "You're not my dad."

"Never said I was, but I am in charge."

Several second of silence continued before Gavroche stood up and crossed his arms, stomping out of the room, grumbling the whole way. Once sure that his bedroom door was closed, Éponine let go of her laughter, closed her book, and set it beside her on the couch.

"What's so funny?"

Éponine shrugged, her laughter turning into fits of giggles and snorts. She fell onto her side on the couch, her ribs trembling from the force of her laughter. Jason couldn't help but laugh along with her. Her sobs morphed into tears, though, and Jason's laughter ended abruptly. He set his books down and calmly moved to her side, crouching down on the floor beside the couch. Tentatively Jason reached out his hand and touched her shaking shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, knowing full-well what her answer would be.

Éponine rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling with watery eyes. She wiped the underside of her nose. "I never meant for any of this to happen," she whispered, smirking ruefully.

Jason sighed deeply, running his hand over her forehead into her hair. "It was an accident."

"I knew exactly what I was doing when I called her." Éponine frowned, guilt rolling over her shoulders and into her veins and to the tips of her toes; her face contorted into an angry scowl and her hands fisted together.

"You didn't know what would come of it." Jason nudged Éponine to the side into a sitting position. He sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, bringing her head to rest just below his chin.

Éponine stiffened, but did not recoil. She absentmindedly fingered the locket she had yet to take off. "I never meant to hurt him," she finally said.

"Gavroche will get over it eventually. He's already getting back to normal."

Éponine didn't have the heart to tell Jason she wasn't talking about Gavroche. Even if the pair had moved past the awkwardness of their first two months of marriage (Éponine still found it odd to say that she was legally married.) and had forged a fast friendship with one another, Éponine still longed for Enjolras. She always would. But Jason and Éponine had never spoken too much about their past relationships. Both alluded to them sometimes, but never spoke of the matter outright.

That seemed almost too personal.

Éponine readjusted so she could face Jason. "I'm sorry for bringing you – "

He held up a hand. "It's my job."

Éponine looked away. She felt Jason cup her cheek and turn her head back. "We're in this together, okay?" She nodded and ducked head slightly, brushing her damp cheek with the backside of her hand. Jason captured her lips with his – forceful and sudden. Éponine, once again, did not recoil. In the heat of the moment, she reciprocated his kisses with stronger ones. After a fleeting moment, she physically tore herself away from him, stumbling off the couch.

Jason jumped to his feet. Both pressed a hand to their mouth. Éponine turned away, her chest heaving. Jason cursed under his breath and took a step back. "I'm sorry," they both said.

Éponine turned. "I – "

"That was – " Jason faltered completely.

"I should go," Éponine said, walking slowly toward the staircase.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice filled with regret and uncertainty.

Éponine nodded when she reached the bottom of the staircase. "Goodnight, Jason."

.::.

_December 30__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

Enjolras really had no plans – at all.

Once he reached Colorado, he took a cab to the nearest bank and withdrew all the money from his saving account; in the back of his mind, he knew he had a trust fund – a rather large trust fund – he could fall back on, if need be. From there, he traveled to a realtors office and found an apartment building on the outskirts of the city. Within two hours of landing in a new state, practically a new world, Enjolras had money, a home, and clothing – all he needed to start life over.

In his one bedroom apartment, completely devoid of any furnishings, he sat down in the middle of the living room floor, staring out the wall comprised of only windows. From there, he had a clear view of the mountains (and of the freeway, but who really cared when he could stare at mountains all day). He breathed deeply, crossing his legs.

Fresh air: exactly what he came for.

Breathing room: he had plenty of it.

With a surprisingly light heart, Enjolras left the apartment and walked to the small grocery store on the corner. He bought milk, eggs, cheese, lunch meat, bread – everything provisional – and went home, stuffing it into the bread-box or fridge. He took a slow walk around his apartment, glancing inside the small bathroom, and the closet in the hallway.

When he made the rash decision to move all the way out to Colorado, he hadn't thought of the things he would need once he got there. Like a bed, or a couch, or Internet connection. At first, the hype of doing something so unexpected overrode the craziness of the idea. For awhile, Enjolras lived off of the feeling of general _aliveness_ that buzzed through his veins. But it wore off once he realized how little he had prepared.

He moved back to the living room and put his hands on his hips. After a moment of consideration, he left the apartment once more, intent on walking to Wal-Mart (which, thankfully, wasn't too far away). On his way, he passed a record store, jammed between a sketchy looking Japanese restaurant and bike shop. In the front window a sign read "Help Wanted."

He paced in front of the store for a moment before entering.

Enjolras could work at a record store, right?

.::.

_January 3__rd__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

Enjolras officially had the essentials: a bed, a couch, a coffee table, a small dining table, towels for the linen closet, a TV and Internet connection, his clothes from back home in Maine, and a job.

And also a cat.

The last item had been taken in during a snow storm two days after his arrival in Denver. A snow white kitten, tiny and frail, had huddled up under the overhang of the front of the apartment building. Enjolras had barely noticed it when coming home from the record store. In fact, he stepped on its tail. When he'd heard the soft meow, Enjolras had stepped back, alarmed to see such a white kitten all alone. Begrudgingly, he'd taken it upstairs, intending on letting it stay the night. Instead, the kitten made its home on the far left corner of the couch.

Enjolras figured he could stay for awhile.

Besides, the name Thor had a nice ring to it.

He was content. His day began early and ended early, which barely any human interaction in-between; just as he liked it.

Denver was suddenly becoming home – slowly, but surely.

.::.

_January 3__rd__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

San Antonio was officially home for Éponine. And for Gavroche.

There was no doubt about it.

After their "accidental kiss," Éponine and Jason had avoided each other before finally confronting each other about it one night after supper. They agreed to never speak of it again; especially in front of Gavroche. No hard feelings remained.

The Christmas season had already begun to die down and school began for Gavroche once more, as did work for Jason. Éponine was back to lazing around, going to lunch with the ladies of her neighborhood, and shopping.

She felt like she was turning into some "Real Housewife of San Antonio."

Oddly enough, she didn't mind.

If that's what kept her busy, kept her from thinking of Enjolras, from the people she'd wronged, Éponine would take it – gladly.

She only hoped the feeling would last long enough to keep her from breaking again.


	5. Revolution

**A/N: I really, really enjoyed writing this chapter. I'm not sure why; it was just a lot of fun.**

**Also, the updating schedule for this story is so out of whack. I apologize! Once May is over and school is nearly finished, I will go back to a normal schedule, but until then, it'll be a little hectic. I promise to continue updating regularly, but not conformed to a schedule. Thank you for understanding.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Five: _Revolution_

.::.

_January 5__th__; West Bath, Maine._

.::.

Ryan was not idle in his sadness.

Unlike Enjolras, who ran from his problems, and Grantaire, who simply seemed to forget Éponine, Ryan decided to investigate. After returning from Michigan, he only wrote down his possible ideas for her disappearance. Enjolras had always been so vague when he spoke of that night; he'd only ever mentioned something about a lie. June was the one to break the news to him. Veronica was Éponine, a young girl who'd lived in Florida all her life, never Kansas. Her parents weren't dead; they were in jail. Once he knew the truth, all of his previous ideas went out the window.

At first, he was angry. He didn't understand how Veronica – _É__ponine_ – his best friend could have lied to him. And for so long. It was baffling. His feelings soon morphed into sadness. He missed her terribly. Everyone did, really. Éponine and Gavroche both had impacted West Bath in ways no one realized until they were gone. Their sudden disappearance shocked the whole town – especially the school. In a corner of the lunch room, a small memorial had been erected in her honor. Children drew pictures for her and wrote letters, placing them in a basket, that had to be emptied almost daily it grew so full. People often asked June where the young woman who'd always been so bright ran off too. A group of older gentlemen Éponine had served every afternoon for lunch regularly asked of her whereabouts; they spoke of creating a search team to try and find her, but nothing was ever done.

It was because of Éponine that Ryan chose to go back to school.

He'd dropped out his sophomore year and fallen back on working for June. When Grantaire and Ryan graduated, he felt a small spark of want for a diploma, an actual career, but it had faded away like usual. When Éponine disappeared, and when the school created that memorial, he officially decided to go back. He also decided to major in elementary education. It was the least he could do, he felt.

But most of all, he investigated.

He learned as much as he could about the Witness Protection Program and where Éponine could have possible gone. He created maps and tried to think as she did, wondering where on Earth she could have gone. Sometimes it concerned Grantaire. He found his boyfriend too obsessive and it put an incredible strain on their relationship, but Ryan was determined to find her. Almost as determined as Enjolras had been.

He didn't know if he would ever find her – and he prayed to every deity he could think of that he would – but it certainly didn't hurt to try.

.::.

_January 7__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

Thor meowed and stood up, stretching his back into a curve. With a pounce, the kitten jumped from the top of the couch to the center of Enjolras' lap in a graceful leap. Engrossed by the TV, Enjolras startled, letting out a small grunt. Thor hissed, but then quieted, settling down on Enjolras' lap. Enjolras smiled contentedly to himself and ran his hand over Thor's back.

Adding Thor to his life had been the best decision he'd made since moving to Colorado. Although at first rather hesitant, Enjolras quickly grew to appreciate both the company and structure Thor provided. His job just down the road was steady and quiet, so unlike his previous job at the law firm. Enjolras blended into the city perfectly; the air was fresh and crisp, the people relatively kind, and he didn't have to worry about seeing something that would remind him of Éponine.

Who was he kidding?

_Everything _reminded him of her.

He'd thought that getting away would help ease the pain, and sometimes it did. No longer did he run into people and places that brought up old memories of their fleeting time together. Only now, he was reminded of her through the music people bought, the way the air sometimes took his breath away, Thor's purrs and nuzzles.

Anything and everything screamed her name: _É__ponine. __É__ponine. __É__ponine._

He had no friends; he didn't plan on making any either. His boss, Jackson Clark, had hired him faster than Enjolras could snap his fingers, claiming he really, _really _needed the help.

Cory Fry, Enjolras' only co-worker, had proved to be someone intent on becoming Enjolras' bosom buddy. In some ways, the twenty-seven year old reminded him of Grantaire. Their features were the same: olive skin, dark, curly hair, medium height. But other than that, Cory was the complete opposite. He never drank, though he smoked often. He was already a widower and he spoke of his late wife often. Cory had covered his skin in tattoos. It seemed like every day Enjolras noticed one he hadn't seen before. Having only one tattoo that remained hidden most of the time, Enjolras felt like a blank paper next to Cory.

Enjolras' eyelids began to droop under the heavy influence of sleep. When his cell phone rang, he physically jumped, scaring Thor away underneath the kitchen table. He ran his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes, before he answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"_Jack?!" _On the other end of the line, Cory practically screamed into his ear.

Enjolras sighed; never, ever would Cory remember to call him Enjolras. "Hello, Cory." He stood up, walking to the window that looked out onto an alleyway.

"_Whatcha doin', man?"_

"Just – you know – stuff." Enjolras glanced at Thor, licking his paws beneath the table.

"_Great! That sounds great. Look, I'm outside right now – you know, of your apartment – and I made an appointment for you to get a tattoo, so let's go."_

Enjolras faltered completely. He remained dumbfounded for a few seconds before Cory's laughter broke his stupor. "Excuse me? You did what?" His tone, low and threatening, brokered no fooling around.

"_I made you an appointment – a tattoo appointment," _Cory replied hesitantly.

"I don't want any more tattoos."

"_One isn't enough, man! You'd look good in 'em, too. With your hair and style, the ladies would be crawling to your doorstep. When Ellie was alive, she – "_

To spare himself another story about Cory's late wife, Enjolras interrupted him. "Okay."

This time, Cory faltered. _"What?"_

"I said: okay. I have one already." He sighed, shaking his head. "Why not?"

"_That's the spirit! Hurry up. The appointment is in twenty minutes."_

After Cory hung up, Enjolras ran to the hall closet, grabbing his coat. As he shrugged it on, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He'd never imagined himself getting tattoos. The mishap with the V which then turned into a rose had been an accident really; he was drunk when he got it. Choosing to get a tattoo, though, clear of mind and heart, was completely different. The idea invigorated him.

It was another part of his life in Colorado that just felt right.

.::.

_January 7__th__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

"I think I'd like to go back to teaching," Éponine said, looking up from her dinner plate.

Gavroche's chewing slowed and Jason set his fork down slowly. Already their reactions did not bode well in Éponine's mind. She held her breath, wringing her hands together on the napkin in her lap. After a lot of consideration, and one comment about Jason from Missy, Éponine decided putting her degree to use would really take her mind off of things. She'd already looked, and thankfully, there was an opening at one of the elementary schools for an art teacher.

Jason wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin, blinking slowly. "Teaching?"

Éponine nodded, glancing at Gavroche. She removed her hands from the napkin and grabbed her fork and knife, cutting a piece of her pot roast. "Yeah, teaching. That's what I majored in."

"Oh.."

She raised an eyebrow. "You sound.. disappointed."

Jason shook his head, holding up a hand. "No, no, it's not that. I just – I thought you liked not working."

Éponine scoffed. "Hardly." She set her fork down, titling her head to the side. "Do you want to know what Missy said to me today about you?"

Jason's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "I don't see how this pertains to teaching, but sure."

"She said, 'Wow, Audrey. That Willie of yours sure is _so _handy. I mean, my Ken works twice as much as Willie and he still doesn't make as much as Willie does.'"

Jason pursed his lips, sharing a look with Gavroche, who looked as equally as confused. "I don't get it."

Éponine rolled her eyes, groaning. "Ken is Missy's trophy husband. He works his ass off just so she can go buy another pair of heels. She sees _you _as a trophy husband for me!"

"So?"

"So, that's ridiculous! She's ridiculous! The woman is ridiculous."

Jason sighed, folding his arms together. "I still don't get what Missy has to do with you teaching, Éponine."

"I want to teach so I don't have to deal with Missy anymore! She's driving me up the wall."

Jason nodded. "Fair enough. But, we really don't need the money. With the allowance from the Program and what I make, we're set for life pretty much." He smirked, elbowing Gavroche. "That means paint-balling every weekend come summer."

"It's not about the money, Jason," Éponine dead-panned.

The boy's laughter subsided and Jason held up his hands in defeat. "If you wanna go back to work, feel free. I'm not going to hold you back, but just be warned: the mother's of San Antonio elementary school children are vicious."

Éponine smiled triumphantly. "I'm sure I can handle them." _After all, I handled Grantaire and Ryan for how long? They were basically ten years old..._She turned to Gavroche. "Would you mind if I starting teaching again?"

Gavroche stared at his plate and turned his head, before shaking it. "No. That's alright with me." He looked at her and smiled; Éponine's heart soared. She reached across the table and took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently.

"Thanks, bud."

"As long as we don't have to do pointillism!"

Éponine laughed, a genuine smile cracking her face. "Deal. No pointillism."

.::.

_January 8__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

Enjolras' back was sore.

On the way to the tattoo parlor the day before, Cory had talked him through what he personally thought would "compliment Enjolras' light skin tone and style." Once the pair arrived at Incognito Studios, Enjolras knew exactly what he wanted.

_Marty snapped his latex glove into place, rubbing his hands together. "What am I doing for you today, Mr. Enjolras?"_

_Sans his shirt, Enjolras fidgeted on the leather recliner, much to Cory's amusement. "On my spine," Enjolras said hesitantly, glancing at Cory, who looked both shocked and impressed._

_Marty, too, looked surprised. "Have you ever gotten a tattoo before?" Enjolras turned his wrist over, revealing the rose. "That's a good piece of work," Marty noted, touching his skin. He looked up. "It's going to hurt."_

"_I know."_

"_Well then." Marty smiled. "I've done plenty of those kind of pieces, so you're in luck. I even did Cory's! What's your idea?"_

_Enjolras told him._

_Marty cocked his head to the side, looking away from the piece of paper he was poised at to scrawl notes. "That's very... interesting."_

_Enjolras nodded. "I lost a friend."_

_Marty nodded solemnly. "I promise to do he – or she – proud. And in cursive you said?"_

Marty had been telling the truth when he said it would hurt. The needle repeatedly going over his spine hurt "like a bitch" as Cory so eloquently described it. Enjolras hadn't even been able to sleep on his back it hurt so much.

He rolled out of bed, wincing when his back made contact with the sheets. Walking to the kitchen, Enjolras poured himself a glass of milk and fed Thor. He glanced at the hallway mirror. It was safe to look now, right?

He set his glass down and walked to the mirror, flipping on the light. Slowly Enjolras turned around and sucked in a breath as he looked over his shoulder.

Written in cursive, almost delicately, stretching from the middle of his spine, about five inches up, were the words "You were my revolution."

Instantly, he thought of Éponine.

Yes, Marty had done her proud.


	6. Shooting Blanks

**A/N: I know; I know! I want them back together, too! Just have patience. **

**Things are about to get a little hectic I think. We've got three separate stories going on: Enjolras', Ryan's, and ****É****ponine's. If it gets too confusing please let me know. But remember, I always have my reasons.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Six: _Shooting Blanks_

.::.

_January 10__th__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

Éponine got the job. She figured she would, and wasn't being proud when she felt that way. South San Antonio Elementary School was rife of one: good teachers and two: teachers willing to stay on staff. SSAES – also known as SAE – had been located in the rougher areas of town after a redistricting movement. In the past, several teachers had been attacked by students – some as young as second grade. Most teachers who'd left the school had left within three weeks.

Éponine felt she knew herself well enough to know she'd be able to make it past three weeks.

On her first day – a Wednesday – Gavroche showed her to the art room. Their relationship after Éponine's announcement of going back to teaching had changed drastically. Finally things were back to normal and Éponine had her brother back. Once inside the art room, Éponine had a limited amount of time to get her things together. She shoved her bag behind the desk at the back of the classroom and quickly plugged her computer in. After looking over the schedule her boss – Principal Dennis – had given her, Éponine printed off the same "Getting to Know You" work-sheet she'd used on her first day in West Bath. She paused and fingered the edge of the paper.

"I remember doing that paper," Gavroche said, picking up his head from off one of the desks.

Éponine looked up, surprised to still see him in the room. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

He shrugged. "I have an excuse."

She narrowed her eyes and then walked up and down the rows, placing a sheet on each desk. "I miss it there," she whispered after handing out all of the work-sheets.

"Me too."

Éponine glanced around the blank, white cinder-block walls. "You should go to class."

She heard his feet shuffle against the speckled white tiles. "Have a good day, Éppy."

"You too, Gav." She wiped a stray tear off her cheek and waited until she heard the door close to shake her arms and head, exhaling loudly. She heard the door open and the sound of first graders scuttle into the room, all speaking quickly. Turning on her heel, she smiled brightly and rubbed her hands together, walking to the white board at the front of the classroom.

In big red letters she wrote: Mrs. Polichie.

_Time to get cracking_, she thought.

.::.

_January 11__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

"That's sick, man!" Cory chuckled, stepping back. Before going into work, he'd stopped at Enjolras' apartment to check out the finished product of Enjolras' tattoo. Enjolras stepped away, lowering his shirt, a faint blush tinted on his cheeks.

He ate the last of his apple and threw it away, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Ready to go?" he asked, mouth slightly frothy from the apple's juice.

"Sure." Cory rubbed Thor's head once more and headed out of the door before Enjolras had a chance to even grab his coat. Cory had already reached the outside of Enjolras' apartment building by the time Enjolras was running down the stairs.

"Wait up!" he called, holding his jacket tighter as the wind blew it back. Cory stopped walking and turned around; Enjolras fell into to step with him after a moment. "Can I ask you a question?" Still not totally accustomed to the change of altitude, Enjolras' lungs had yet to accept the thinness of the air. His chest burned slightly and his throat felt parched even after the smallest bit of running.

Cory shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah."

"Your wife – "

"Ellie," Cory supplied, glancing sideways.

"Ellie – yeah. What did you do when you – when you lost her?"

Cory took a sharp left, cutting Enjolras off. He opened the record store door, letting Enjolras go in first. He then flipped on the lights, effectively opening Recording Records for the day. He positioned himself behind the counter; Enjolras meandered through the row of records beginning with the letter 'P.' Cory was so oddly quiet, Enjolras worried that his question may have been too personal. After all, before Enjolras got his tattoo, he'd obviously given Cory the cold shoulder.

"Well, I cried a lot," Cory finally said. Enjolras looked up and Cory smirked. "I mean, I may be covered in tattoos, but I've got a heart. I probably cried enough to double the Atlantic Ocean."

"And then what?"

"Then I got over it. People say that all the time, but it's true. Ellie wouldn't have wanted me to live in the dumps forever; she was always so happy, even when ever her dad died."

Enjolras swallowed hard, turning his back to Cory. The door left off a light jinkle when their first – and most regular customer – walked in. Enjolras walked to the front counter, drumming his fingers on the salmon pink structure.

"Who did you loose?" Cory asked quietly.

"No one, really." Enjolras lied, titling his head to the side, his eyes downcast.

"Liar." Enjolras looked up. "Your tattoo gives it away."

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. "How so?"

"Just the wording, the delicacy. The tattoo I got after Ellie's death was a lot like yours." He pulled up the side of his shirt to reveal a thin line of ink on the side of his ribcage. "It says 'I love you' in her handwriting."He lowered his shirt. "So who was she?"

Enjolras went behind the counter, standing behind the second register. He flipped the TV hanging on a square stand above his head on and turned to the local news station. "Her name was Veronica. Well, Éponine, but I knew her as Veronica." Cory raised an eyebrow. "It's a long story."

"One I hope I can hear someday," Cory replied.

Enjolras shrugged. "Maybe."

.::.

_January 12__th__; West Bath, Maine._

.::.

"June, please, you have to tell me where she went!" Ryan chased June around the counter, trailing closely on her heels.

"No, Ryan, I don't. Even if I did know, I couldn't tell you." June sighed and turned around, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist. Checking over her shoulder to see if any customer were listening, she grabbed his shoulder and pulled him over to the side. "Let her go."

Ryan wrenched his shoulder away. "You know where she is, don't you?"

June's eyes flashed and her brow dipped forward into a frown. "No, I don't. Now get to work." She walked to the counter and reached over the side. As she walked to the front window of Justin and June's, Ryan stared at her intently. June taped the sign to the front window and Ryan sighed, turning around.

The "Help Wanted" sign that had brought Éponine to them once again hung in the window.

.::.

_January 15__th__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

Éponine's short three day week had worn her to the core. She had been surprised when she felt the exact same way previous teachers had described: drained, weak, frustrated. And only after three days!

On Monday, she entered the day with renewed confidence. Throughout her morning, she dealt with the always rambunctious first and second graders; she had yet to figure out what reached their level best. After a brief planning period, she taught Gavroche's class for the first time and was rather disappointed to see how disrespectfully he acted. At the end of the day, she counted it as a win.

No one had gotten hurt – especially her – and her sanity was still intact as far as she was concerned.

Once home, she followed Gavroche inside and dumped her bags on the couch. Jason had taken a personal day and walked out of the kitchen, a spoon in-between his teeth, to greet the pair.

"Hey, y'all."

Gavroche rushed past him, throwing open the fridge door, grabbing himself a juice box. "I hate school, Jason."

"Really?" He smirked. "Éponine likes it enough to go back even after college."

"She's dumb."

Slumped on the couch, Éponine raised her hand in protest. "I am not! I have a degree, you know, smart ass? And I'm putting it to use. You, on the other hand, were so rude today during class I almost – "

Jason put a hand on Gavroche's forehead as the eleven year old moved to bolt forward. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Settle down. What is going on?"

Immediately Éponine jumped to her feet, pointing at Gavroche, while they fought to gain the upper-hand in their argument. Jason rolled his eyes and walked away, walking into the kitchen. From one of the drawers, he grabbed a gun and walked into the living room, shooting a blank toward the ceiling.

Both Éponine and Gavroche shrieked.

Jason tossed the gun on the couch. "It was the only way to get you guys to shut up." He shrugged, falling onto the couch. "Court is now in session."

Éponine rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Gavroche stuck his tongue out at her and stomped away. "I have basketball practice in two hours, Jay!" he called, slamming his door extra hard for effect.

Jason sat forward and placed his elbows on his knees. "What was that all about?" he questioned, looking up.

Éponine shook her head, slouching down into the love seat. "He's still mad."

"I thought – "

"Me too."

Jason sighed and stood up, offering her his hand. "Come on. Let's sit outside."

Éponine followed him onto the porch, hand in hand. They'd recently bought three white rocking chairs and placed them on the porch, overlooking the street. Across from their house was Ken and Missy's, large and ornate. He sat down in one chair and she sat down in another; still, Jason did not let go of her hand.

"When I was little," he said, rocking back and forth gently. "my mom would always make me a strawberry smoothie when I was angry or sad."

Éponine smiled, turning her head to face the road. "I like strawberries."

"I'll make you a strawberry smoothie then."

They sat in relative silence, Jason's thumb brushing over her knuckles. Once in awhile, when someone walked by on the sidewalk, they would raise their arm and holler "Hello, Willie! Audrey!" and Jason would raise his hand in return. The gentle breeze and the sound of the rocking chairs on the wood porch lulled Éponine into a trance. Her anger dissipated slowly, but surely.

"We're going to be okay, Jason," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"Sure thing, Butter-Ball."

Éponine dropped his hand and sat up, turning to face him, her mouth dropped open. "Where did you learn about that?"

"Gav," Jason laughed, sitting up. "He told me you were so fat during middle school everyone called you Butter-Ball."

She swatted his shoulder, grinning despite her embarrassment. "I hate you."

"You won't be saying that after I make you the best damn smoothie of your life!" He stood up and walked inside. "It'll be ready in five minutes!"

.::.

_January 15__th__; West Bath, Maine._

.::.

Ryan had never broken into someone's house before.

Doing it for the first time – sans any help – completely invigorated him. Of course, there was little threat that he would be caught since June was away on business, but still, prying open her back window and rolling into the living room disguised in all black made his blood pump.

He really didn't have any idea of what he was looking for. June had sworn she knew nothing of Éponine's disappearance, but he was betting most of his money that she had been lying. He stood up and brushed himself off, glancing around the room. Whatever he was looking for probably wouldn't in the barest living room he'd ever seen.

Tip-toeing, he went into the office.

Jack pot.

Papers upon papers were lying across the bookshelf and desk, even the floor. He immediately rooted through the piles, reading bits and pieces of lines, searching everywhere for her name.

But nothing.

He sat back and itched his head.

He nearly left, but as he was leaving the room, he noticed a manilla folder wedged behind the computer desk. He pulled it free and read the words on the cover.

_W.P.P Case File #483704: __É__ponine Jondrette and Gavroche Thenardier._


	7. Growth

**A/N: Thanks for all of your questions and concerns! Love to hear what you're thinking. :D**

**We've got a bit of a time jump in this chapter, but remember that this story is only 20 chapters long (as of right now). Book 3 is **_**definitely **_**going to be longer. For now, I am going to go ahead and say that there will be ****no**** updates next week. I have testing (plus an exam on Wednesday), so my brain is going to be full. Sorry!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Seven: _Growth_

.::.

_January 15__th__; West Bath, Maine._

.::.

Ryan did not open the file. Instead, he put it back where it came from. His fingers itched as he wedged it back beneath the computer desk. As he stepped away from the room, his conscience felt lighter, but his mind told him to go back and read what was inside the folder.

It was bad enough that he'd broken into June's house.

Stealing Éponine's file would only add to his guilt.

Ryan left through June's window and sealed it as best he could, hoping he didn't disturb anything enough to leave evidence of his break-in. He walked away from the house, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

As long as she was safe, he could convince himself that he didn't need to know where she was.

.::.

_March 1__st__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

Enjolras got two more tattoos over the next two months.

His third tattoo was a spur of the moment decision. While visiting the inner part of Denver, he visited a French Revolution exhibit at the history museum. The exhibit brought back floods of memories from his teenage years in West Bath. His friends – _Les Amis –_ they'd sworn by the French Revolution mantra: _Libert__é__, Egalit__é__, Fraternit__é__. _Enjolras must have written across every paper he'd received during high-school. The memories of how they'd met in the café nearly every day after school, how they'd practically shared their lives together hit him hard in the gut.

Solemn and contemplative, Enjolras had started trekking home on foot (nearly a fifteen mile endeavor) when he passed the tattoo parlor where he'd gotten his back tattoo. On a whim, he entered and left with the same French Revolution mantra on the inside of his left bicep in scrawling, cursive letters, each word stacked atop one another, slightly askew.

His third tattoo he actually thought about. At first he'd been rather hesitant about _thinking _about getting one. Each time he'd gotten one before, he'd either been drunk, coerced into it, or it had been a seat-of-the-pants decision. Now that he was positive he liked tattoos, he spent two weeks choosing his next edition. He finally decided on the profile of a wolf on his right forearm. For once, it did not have anything to do with Éponine or _Les Amis_; this time, it focused on his father. When he was a child, his father had always compared Enjolras to a wolf. Before he died when Enjolras was ten, his father had taken him to a petting zoo of animals one wouldn't usually find in a petting zoo; it was there that Enjolras was able to get up close with a wolf for the first and only. It was his favorite memory of his father.

He also got another cat: a fully grown, twenty-two pound tabby cat he named Reginald. Convinced that Thor felt lonely throughout the day while Enjolras was gone, he went to the shelter and picked the fattest cat he could find.

Now, with four tattoos and two cats, Enjolras felt installed into his new life.

Sure, on many occasions he would miss Éponine or Grantaire terribly, but it would pass quickly. Cory had quickly – rather surprisingly, too – become a good friend and he'd even let himself be convinced into going on a double-date with Cory and the woman he'd begun seeing.

At first, he'd declined several times. He wasn't interested in meeting new people; he'd be fine on his own. But Cory was so insistent Enjolras ultimately accepted the invitation. At seven o'clock, Cory knocked on his door and Enjolras let him in.

"You ready?"

"No."

Cory laughed and rubbed his hands together. "This'll be good for you, Jack."

"Enjolras."

"Whatever." Cory turned around and grabbed a banana from the counter. "Annie is a nice girl."

"I'm sure." Enjolras took the half-eaten banana from Cory's hand and dumped it into the trash can. "Are we going then?"

Cory nodded, mouth full. "Yeah, let's go."

The pair hopped into Cory's car outside of the small apartment building and drove in relative silence to a club in the middle of Denver. Once inside, Cory quickly located his friend – Hailey – and Annie.

"They're over there," he said, leaning in so Enjolras could hear him over the music. "Look, don't be nervous, Enjolras. She – whoever she was – probably wants you to move on, right?"

Enjolras looked away. The dim light of the club and the thumping of the music that reverberated in his chest was overwhelming. Several times in his youth he'd gone clubbing, but that was only because Courfeyrac had forced him to go. He'd always ended up with a massive headache, wounded pride, and stomach ache. But he was more accustomed to alcohol now and massive headaches; hopefully, he could leave both with his pride intact and alone.

Cory greeted Hailey warmly and then introduced Enjolras to Annie. As Enjolras had figured, Cory then excused himself, tugging Hailey along. Enjolras sighed. Annie smiled, extending her hand, which he shook.

"I'm Annie," she yelled, leaning in.

"Enjolras." He nodded firmly, allowing his lips to upturn slightly.

Annie wasn't _all _bad, Enjolras noted. Small frame, impossibly skinny, blond hair too long to be natural, perfect skin, perfect teeth, probably enhanced breasts: really, nothing of substance.

"So, what do you do?" she asked, leaning her arms onto the tall bar table before her.

"I – ah – I work with Cory."

"Oh! At the record store?" He nodded and her smile widened. "That's nice."

"What profession do you partake in?" Enjolras winced and bit his tongue, his limbs seizing up. _Dumbass. _Luckily, Annie only giggled.

"I'm a model."

Enjolras struggled to keep his composure. "Really?"

"Mhmm. I do lots of commercials and Kohl's magazines, hair products – that kinda stuff. But what I really want to do is become a soap opera star."

Enjolras nearly groaned. "How – ambitious of you."

.::.

_March 1__st__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

"So, tell me how this happened?" Jason handed his menu to the waiter and folded his hands on the table, raising his eyebrows. He pointed to the bandage on her forearm and Éponine sighed.

"Scotty Reart," she replied, shaking her head. "A new student with severe emotional problems. I put him back by my desk for safety reasons, but that was probably the worst mistake I've ever made." She quickly explained the story of how Scotty had been enraged by another student's comment and made to stab him with a pair of her scissors. If it wasn't for her expert timing and practice in protecting her siblings from her parents' wrath during their childhood, Éponine probably wouldn't have reacted as fast as he did and gotten in the middle of the path of the pair of scissors and the other student. In the end, the scissors had met her arm and succeeded in causing some damage to someone, though it wasn't the person Scotty had intended.

Jason couldn't help, but chuckle. "I'm really sorry that you got hurt, but – "

"But what?" Éponine asked, an amused smile on her lips.

"It's just funny, that's all."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't think so. And I've got a giant gash on my arm to back that up."

Jason's chuckles faded away and he took a sip of his beer. Their quiet conversation continued, always devoid of any inkling of a tangible _anything_, whether it be feeling or communication. Éponine considered Jason her closest friend, but she had to admit that she knew next to nothing about him. It was odd: outside of the home, they acted like any other newly married couple, but inside the home, their conversations were little and quiet.

Jason cleared his throat suddenly and Éponine followed his eye-line to the front of the restaurant. She sighed and waved to one of her student's parents. They bustled over to the table once their name was taken down on the waiting list. Rene Walker wasted no time scooting in next to Éponine and taking her hand.

"I heard about what happened today, Audrey," she said contritely. "Gosh, my Nancy came home in tears! How are you doing?"

Éponine smiled. "I'm alright. I feel sorry for those kids, though."

Rene shook her head slowly. "Terrible, terrible thing when parents can't control their kids."

Not wishing to disclose any of Scotty's personal information, Éponine held her tongue. She shared a glance with Jason, who piped up. "I'm sure there is more to the story than we know."

Lucas Walker, Rene's husband, shrugged. "If it were me, I'd tan that boy's – "

"Mr. Walker, I really don't think it's any of our business." Éponine stepped in, her personal experience with an abusive family overriding her self-control.

Lucas focused on Éponine, his eyes somewhere between anger and confusion. Jason quickly reached across the table and grabbed her hand. "What my wife meant was – "

Rene slowly stood, taking her husband's elbow. "No, no, we understand. Come on, Luke. They just called our name. See you later."

Once they had left, Éponine turned to Jason, eyes ablaze. "What did I do?!"

Jason sighed. "You countered Walker; no one counters Walker."

"I was just trying to stick up for Scotty. He – "

"I know. Don't worry about it, okay?" He patted her hand. "Do you want to leave?"

"Our food hasn't gotten here yet."

"Yeah, but I'm feeling a little bit stuffy. Besides, Sonic tastes better."

Éponine smiled in relief, taking Jason's hand as he offered it to her. "Thanks, Jay," she whispered, leaning into his side.

"What are husbands for?" He quirked a smile, rubbing her shoulder.

Éponine's stomach twisted at the comment. Jason was her husband; the thought constantly eluded her mind. Was she betraying Enjolras? She nearly scoffed at the thought. It wasn't like Bailey had given her a choice? Still, in the pit of her stomach, Éponine felt an awful sense of guilt.

She wondered what he was doing.

Was he happy?

Had he forgotten her already?

Part of her wished that he had – that he'd moved on and found someone better than her. The other part selfishly wished that he was lost without her, that he spent every moment trying to find her.

Jason opened her car door, waiting until she was settled to bend down a press a soft kiss to her lips. The breath in her chest stilled. After a moment he pulled away and his eyes flicked toward the front of the restaurant.

"They're watching," he whispered.

Éponine quickly stole a glance of the Walkers watching them from their seat near the window. He closed her door and got in on the other side. "You sure you didn't just do that because?"

"What can I say? I'm a man with needs."

Éponine rolled her eyes as he pulled out of the parking lot, pretending to not care, but secretly, her lips tingled and she yearned for more.

* * *

**Originally, this chapter was going to be longer, so I apologize. But then I got sick. :( **

**Keep in mind: I did say that nothing would happen between Jason and Éponine. But come on? Sometimes I've got to throw in a couple of kisses 'cause it makes me happy.** **Remember to tell me what you think!**


	8. Plane Tickets

**A/N: My exams are over! I think I can finally relax at last. Sorry for the blandness of this chapter. Soon things will begin to heat up! ;)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Eight: _Plane Tickets_

.::.

_March 3__rd__; West Bath, Maine._

.::.

Ryan knocked on June's front door, twiddling his thumbs together nervously. After a moment, the door opened, revealing a sleep-rumpled June, coffee mug in hand. "Ryan?" Her eyes were half-closed and she barely reacted when he pushed past her into the house. "What are you doing?"

Pacing holes into her carpet, he continuously ran his hands through his hair. "I broke into your house." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could back out of what he'd come to do.

June shook her head, frowning. "What?"

"I broke into your house – while you were away."

June placed her half-full coffee mug on the dining room table; she put her hands on her hips. "Why would you do something like that?"

Ryan chewed the fingers nails on one hand and folded his other arm across his chest. "I wanted to know where Éponine was sent..."

"I told you – "

Ryan stepped away from the livid June. "I know you told me you didn't know where she went, but – but you do know." He mustered up all of the courage left in his bones and stood strong. "I saw the folder."

"What folder?"

"The one behind the desk in there." He pointed to the room where he'd found the folder.

June shoved past him on her way to the study, throwing open the door. The blinds on the only window were still closed and the fan was off, leaving the tiny room stuffy and dark. June stepped over the papers on the floor and went to the desk, easily locating the manilla folder. She tore it out from behind the desk and held it up before Ryan.

"This?"

He nodded sheepishly, but then straightened. "I want to know where she is, June. I won't go and find her, I swear. I know that'll put her in danger, but I _have_ to know."

June, face red with anger, stomped to the paper shredder, holding the folder over the top. "I can't tell you, Ryan, I'm sorry. And the fact that you broke into my home – "

"June, please! Don't – "

"– goes to show me that – "

"Just tell me!" Ryan stepped forward, grabbing June's shoulders. The woman started, dropping the folder to the floor; three papers spilled out onto the tan carpet. Ryan lowered his voice, dropping his hands. "She's my best friend, June."

June's face softened and she stole a glance at the papers on the floor. Slowly, she walked toward the door. "I'm going to step out for a moment and let the dogs outside. If, while I am away, you happen to find out where she is, then so be it. But if they come knocking, I never told you." She closed the door quietly.

Ryan fell to his knees and gathered the papers into his hands. His eyes scanned the words feverishly. On the first paper words of secrecy and legal matters flew past Ryan's eyes; he tossed the paper to the side. The second page held the same contents, except with June's signature at the bottom, plus the signature of someone named Bailey. The third and final paper held but four lines.

_É__ponine Jondrette – Audrey Polichie_

_Gavroche Thenardier – Issac Jacobs_

_Jason Renolds – William Polichie_

_Location: San Antonio, Texas_

Ryan fell back onto his haunches, out of breath from excitement. His mind whirled. Texas – God, that was worlds away! He ran a hand over his face and stood up, pacing the short length of the room. He'd promised he wouldn't go and find her only five minutes earlier, but already he thought of how he was going to get there. Question after question ran through his mind.

How was she?

How was Gavroche?

And, most importantly, who the hell was Jason?

The door opened behind him and June stepped inside, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. "Well?"

Ryan turned around, hands shoved into his pockets to hide the shaking. "I know nothing."

She nodded slowly, looking away. "I believe you have somewhere to be."

Ryan snapped his fingers and nodded, brushing past her. "Work, right, of course. Thanks, June."

June showed him to the door, watching him jog down the path. "Remember what you said, Ryan! You can't go and see her.."

Holding his car door open, Ryan waved, nodding. He jumped inside and tore out of the driveway. With one hand, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, calling Grantaire. "Hey, R. How much do plane tickets to Texas cost? Yeah, everything is fine. My – my cousin is having a baby and she wants me there; godfather or something.. Can you just check for me?"

.::.

_March 4__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

"Do you see yourself heading anywhere with Annie?" Cory popped open the cash register and then closed it, repeating the movement several times.

Enjolras scoffed, leaning on his elbows. "Hell no."

Cory turned his body to face Jack, raising his eyebrows. "And why not? She's a nice girl – "

"She's the most superficial person I've ever met," Enjolras deadpanned in return.

"Is that so?" Cory chuckled and shrugged. "Well, it was just your first – "

Enjolras held up a hand, cutting him off. "There wont be a next time, Cory."

Cory's held tilted to the side. "Why not?"

Sighing, Enjolras walked out from behind the counter and began organizing a purple, record filled bin. "Because I said so."

"That is no answer."

"Of course it is." Enjolras frowned. "Look, Cory, I appreciate you trying to help, but – but I'm just not interested, okay?"

Cory paused, waiting for the small group of teenagers who'd entered the store to begin their search before he continued. "Who was she?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes, walking further down the aisle. Cory left the counter unattended and walked down the row across from Enjolras. "Someone very dear to me," Enjolras replied, stopping at the end of the row.

Cory looked around the empty shop; he nodded toward the break room. "Wanna tell me?"

Enjolras shrugged. "Why not?" He followed Cory into the break room and sat down in one of the few chairs. (Why on earth there was a break room in a record store was beyond Enjolras.) Cory grabbed a soda out of the tiny fridge, offering one to Enjolras, who declined. He sat down across from the other man.

"So."

"She lied to me the duration of our relationship," Enjolras began, toying with a loose string on his pant-leg.

Cory chuckled. "Damn."

Enjolras nodded. "I mean, I don't think she really had a choice. She was part of the Witness Protection Program, so it's not like she created a new identity from scratch for the heck of it." He sighed. "At first, she hated me; I didn't really like her, either, but I didn't dislike her, you know?" Cory nodded. "And then bam!" He snapped his fingers. "It all fell into place and suddenly we were dating and then she just disappeared."

"What was her name?" Cory took a long sip of his soda.

"Éponine. Well, I knew her as Veronica."

"So, Éponine – you don't know where she is?"

"Not a clue." Enjolras leaned forward, running a hand over his face.

"Geez. I'm really sorry, man. I never would have guessed – "

"It's fine."

"Hey! Look on the bright side: maybe something happened and she wasn't safe anymore? I don't know jack-shit about the Witness Protection Program, but I guess they protect people. Maybe she had no choice."

Jack stood up slowly, nodding. "Yeah, maybe. I try not to think too much about it. That's why I moved out here." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, it's about closing time. I've got to – feed my cats." He sighed and chuckled ruefully. "I sound like such a loser.."

Cory shook his head and stood as well. "Nah. You're fine; I was the same way. I'll close the place up."

"Thanks, Cory."

"See you tomorrow, Jack."

Enjolras didn't bother to correct him anymore.

Besides, it was nice to hear his name again.

.::.

_March 4__th__; West Bath, Maine._

.::.

"But, Ryan, you don't know anyone in San Antonio!"

"I told you: my cousin is having a baby." Ryan popped a baby carrot into his mouth, shrugging. Across the table, Grantaire sat facing his laptop, frowning.

"Why have you never mentioned her? What happened?"

Ryan scoffed and stood up, taking the laptop from Grantaire's hands. He quickly searched plane ticket fares. "She was never relevant until now."

"What's her name?" Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

"Alyssa," Ryan replied, without missing a beat.

"Does this have anything to do with Éponine?" Grantaire's voice was hesitant; Ryan looked up slowly and shook his head.

"No.."

Grantaire sighed and pushed away from the table. "You know, I love you, Ry, but you suck at lying."

Ryan rubbed his forehead, groaning. "This is complicated."

Grantaire placed a firm hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Go on – buy a ticket."

Ryan squeezed Grantaire's hand. "Do you wanna come?"

Grantaire shook his head. "No. I think this is the stupidest idea you've ever had, and you're probably going to get in a hell of a lot of trouble if you get caught, but – " He shrugged.

After a moment, Ryan drew his hand away. "Thank you."

"Just, if you do find her, tell her I said 'hello.' And that I – we miss her."

"Of course." He cleared his throat and swiveled around in his chair. "By the way, I love you, too."

.::.

_March 4__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

By the time eleven fourty-five rolled around, Enjolras felt half-dead. He'd left work with a heavy heart and an overtired brain. Sprawled out onto his couch, Thor on the arm rest behind his head, and Reginald curled up in his stomach, Enjolras mindlessly watched the television, hardly aware of what was even playing. Three beer bottles rested on the coffee table.

At exactly twelve o'clock, his phone rang. Heaving a sigh, Enjolras rolled off of the couch, disturbing Reginald, who pounced onto the floor with a loud hiss. He reached the phone just before the last ring.

"Hello?" On the other end of the line, a loud shuffling noise occurred. "Hello?!"

"_Hey – hi. Um, is Chris there?" _A male voice spoke, slightly out of breath.

"Ah, no. Who is calling?"

"_Max Landon. Maybe I've got the wrong number..."_

Enjolras chuckled a little stiffly. "I think so. This is Jack Enjolras, not Chris."

The pause that hung in the air was so long Enjolras nearly asked if anyone was still on the line. _"Sorry, man. Won't happen again."_

"No problem." Enjolras said goodbye and then hung up, chewing on his finger nail.

Max Landon.

Where had he heard that name before? It definitely rung a bell. But where was it from?

He shrugged and got himself another beer from the fridge. His time was better focused elsewhere than some name he couldn't place to a person.


	9. Nightmares

**This chapter is mostly all ****É****ponine and Jason - I apologize since some of you don't really like Jason. But I have my reasons.  
**

**Remember to leave me a little note! I really want to know what you guys want to see in this story and the upcoming one. :D**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Nine: _Nightmares_

.::.

_March 7__th__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

Éponine awoke in a flurry of sweat and bed sheets, the sound of her scream bouncing around the walls of her bedroom. Outside, the wind whipped through the trees, creating a hollow whirling sound; the shutters outside her window clattered against the side of the house. Her bedroom door burst open, hitting the wall with a loud bang.

Chest heaving, Jason stood in her doorway, his arms braced against the side of the door-frame. "What is it?" he rasped, taking a tentative step into her room.

Éponine drew her knees to her chest and shook her head, covering her mouth with the top of the sheet. "A bad dream, I guess," she finally said.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and nodded, clearing his throat. "You okay?"

"Yeah.."

"Do you want me to stay?" He glanced toward the armchair near her open window. Éponine shook her head. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks, though."

"Okay. Well, goodnight." Jason slowly backed out of her room, gripping the door knob tightly.

Just before he closed the door, Éponine stopped him: "Wait!"

The door opened again.

"Could you just sit with me for a minute or two?"

Jason smiled, nodding. "Sure." He settled himself into the armchair after closing the window. Folding his arms across his chest, Jason sank down into the chair, crossing his one ankle over his knee; he closed his eyes after a moment. "What was the dream about?" His eyes remained closed, his breathing even.

"My parents – maybe. I don't really remember..."

"I remember reading about the case," he commented, opening his eyes slowly.

Éponine shrugged. "It's not that big of a deal – "

He leaned forward, brow furrowed. "Did you even read half of the things on there? Seriously, Éponine, how could you say it's not that – "

Éponine turned away, crossing her arms over her chest. "Of course I read what was on there! Those things happened – to me, to Gavroche."

Jason leaned back in the chair. "Right, I'm sorry."

Éponine sunk down into the sheets, twitching her nose. They remained in a tense silence until Éponine was sure Jason had fallen asleep; she turned onto her side, her back facing him. She, too, finally fell into a deep sleep.

.::.

_March 11__th__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

The next several nights continued just the same. Éponine would wake up screaming and Jason would come rushing down the hall, settling himself in the arm-chair for the night. In the morning, before she woke up, Jason would return to his own room. On a particularly rainy evening, with Gavroche away at a friend's house, Éponine settled into bed early, thankful for the peace and quiet.

She cracked open her book and soon was immersed in the story. She almost didn't hear Jason's polite knock on her door.

"Can I come in?" he asked through the wooden frame.

Sighing, Éponine closed her book, holding her spot with her finger. "Yeah."

Jason pushed the door open, grinning sheepishly. "I figured I'd just come in early – save myself the workout of running down the hall." He motioned to the arm-chair and took his normal place, this time equipped with a pillow and blanket.

Éponine scowled in return. "What do you think you're doing?"

Jason turned around from fluffing his pillow. "I'm – I'm setting up my – "

"You can't sleep in here!"

He visibly recoiled. "I do – I have nearly every night for the past week!"

"That's only because – "

"Because you have nightmares!" He frowned. "And every time I come in here, you go to sleep just fine."

Éponine crossed her arms and looked away, just as she had the first night he came into her room. "Well – "

"You never shooed me away before. Why now?" Éponine couldn't miss the slight tone of hurt – even betrayal – in his voice.

She shrugged and blushed, fingering the corner of the book still in her lap. "I – It feels different if you – " She trailed off, looking back at him, hoping her understood her hesitance.

"Is it because of him?" Jason pointed to the framed letter from Enjolras on the wall.

Éponine ducked her head once more.

After a few deep breaths, Jason sat down on the edge of her bed, quirking half a smile. "I know that I'm not him; I don't want to take his place. But, as I've told you hundreds of times before, we're in this together: nightmares, not nightmares, armed gunmen, no armed gunmen."

Éponine laughed, her brow furrowed in amusement. "Armed gunmen?"

"Hey! I've got to be prepared for everything." Jason leaned over to the bedside table and pulled out from the drawer a loaded gun; Éponine's eyes widened. He put the gun back in its place and closed the drawer. "It's just in case."

Éponine's face sobered and she nodded. "Thanks."

Jason nodded in return and slid off the bed. "You were up really late last night. Why don't you get some rest?"

To drive home his request further, Éponine yawned; she giggled and nodded, sliding down into her sheets after turning off the bedside lamp. "Goodnight, Jason."

He situated himself in the yellow arm-chair, opening a book of his own. "Night."

Almost immediately, Éponine fell asleep.

.::.

_March 11__th__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

_A loud bang and then blood._

_Blood everywhere._

_The walls; the carpet; the ceiling; her skin._

_She was coated in it._

_But the owner of the blood was nowhere to be seen. __She crawled all over the floor, blindly reaching for whoever – whatever – had been hurt. She heard a high-pitched moan to her left. Whirling around, she scrambled to her left, calling out for whoever was injured. The moan ended; seconds later, another struck up, but to her right. She turned and headed for the noise, but once she reached it, no one was before her. A chorus of loud moans and groans and screams began, circling her, driving her into the ground. She covered her head with her arms and her hands. _

_Nothing would drive the voices away. They screamed her name, calling for her to help them. She twisted and turned each way, trying her best to find the source of the noise. Finally, the sporadic calling of her name consolidated into one "É__ponine, __É__ponine, __É__ponine" until she felt as if she could take it no more. She tore at her hair and her skin; the sound driving into her mind and her heart. She screamed and – _

"Éponine!"

Jolting out of her nightmare, Éponine scrambled into the middle of her bed, reeling away from Jason, her chest heaving with each heavy breath she took. His arms outstretched, his hands open wide, Jason walked along the edge of the bed, shushing her quietly.

"You're okay. You're okay now."

"What – what happened?" Éponine pushed the sweat-matted hair off her forehead.

"Another dream."

Éponine felt her chin quiver, trying to recall what she'd dreamed about. The only thing she could remember was blood – lots and lots of it. All at once, she began to cry and try to explain herself. Jason shook his head, crawling onto the center of her bed. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her head to rest on his chest. Éponine readily accepted the gesture, crying into his thin grey shirt.

Slowly, he scooted back, resting his back against the headboard. Éponine moved her head to his shoulder, fisting her hand into his shirt. After several long minutes of tears, she felt her breathing even out, staring hazily at the wall across from her. Jason's hand continuously ran through her hair as he whispered "You're okay now" each time he moved his hand back to the top of her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pushing herself away from his grasp.

Jason held fast. "Nu-uh – no you don't. I'm staying here; you're staying here."

Éponine stiffened. "What?"

"Just go back to sleep. I'll be right here."

"Jason – "

"No arguments."

Éponine didn't have the strength to retort. She put as much distance between herself and Jason as he would allow. Eventually, they laid out side-by-side, his hand still holding onto hers. The room grew stuffy quickly and Éponine's head felt heavy from her crying. Tissues littered the floor, some used to their capacity, some barely even touched. Jason's even breathing brought Éponine's into line; soon, she felt herself drift back toward sleep.

Until she remembered her dream.

Her eyes snapped open, staring at the white ceiling above her.

"There was a lot of blood."

"Hmm?"

"Blood – there was a lot of it," she repeating, turning onto her side.

Jason let go of her hand and rubbed his face. He turned on his side, shoving the side of his pillow to make himself more comfortable. "Yeah?" His eyes drooped.

"And screaming people. They kept screaming my name, but I couldn't find them and – " As her anxiety increased, so did her shortness of breath. Jason sighed and reached out his hand for hers. Gently, she relented and took his.

"You're okay now."

She nodded and blinked back her tears.

Jason slowly pried his eyes open, blinking rapidly to keep himself awake. Éponine focused on him, her smile of thanks small, though it spoke volumes to Jason. He cupped her cheek in his hand and bent forward quickly, capturing her lips to his; he pulled away just as fast.

Her eyelids fluttered open. "I – "

"Just sleep."

.::.

_March 20__th__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

Ryan stepped onto Texas soil for the first time, taking in a deep breath of air. He hooked his thumbs around both straps of his backpack and hastened down the sidewalk, desperately searching for a taxi. He hailed one, shoving a woman out of the way to hop inside. He offered a quick apology and then yelled to the driver "San Antonio Police Department, please." Ryan didn't catch the driver's frown and muttering about how many police departments there were in San Antonio; he drove on anyway.

After racking up quite a fare ($56.87 to be exact), Ryan finally decided on the Alamo Heights San Antonio Police Department – otherwise known as Alamo Heights P.D. Just north of downtown San Antonio by two miles, Ryan figured it was as good a place to start as any. Besides, he'd read about the Mexican food on the Riverwalk and he was already aching to try it.

He pushed open the door and walked to the front desk, where a large woman sat, staring blankly at her computer screen, obnoxiously chewing her gum. Ryan cleared his throat; the woman looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir?" Her voice, scratchy and bored, grated on Ryan's ears. What happened to Texas hospitality?

"Um, I'd like to know how to find someone."

The woman blew a bubble with her gum, frowning. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"I want to know if someone lives here. Or at least _nearby _here." He drummed his fingers on the counter. Not one for flying, Ryan still felt the effects of the anti-motion sickness medicine he'd taken before the flight took off. He still hadn't checked in at his hotel, his stomach growled, and he'd yet to call Grantaire, too. The last thing he needed was a stubborn woman blocking the way to find Éponine.

"I don't think I can really hand out information for you, sir." She shook her head slowly and Ryan groaned, hanging his head.

He leaned his whole one hundred and forty-five pound, lanky frame on the counter, raising his eyebrows; he quickly glanced at the woman's nameplate. "Look... Brenda, I came a long, _long _way to find someone who had been missing for a long, _long _time. Could you please just help a guy out?"

Brenda popped another bubble. "What's in it for me?"

Ryan faltered, but then regained his wits, rooting around in his backpack. He pulled out an unopened package of gum and handed it to her across the counter. Brenda glanced at the gum and then Ryan.

She scoffed. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Ryan shook his head quickly, flipping the package over in his hand nervously. "No! Brenda, of course not. I just thought that – "

She sighed quietly and reached forward, ripping the package from his hand. "Who do you wanna find?" She turned to her computer screen, fingers poised over the keyboard.

Ryan mentally thanked Grantaire tens of thousands of times for the gum. "William and Audrey Polichie." With fingers crossed behind his back, he hoped and prayed he had the right station; he may have to go buy a whole lot of gum, otherwise.

After a tense moment, there was a ding on the computer. Ryan opened his eyes; he swatted a stray piece of hair off his forehead. "Well?"

"Yeah, right here. William and Audrey Polichie. 8934 Hardbrooke Court."

Ryan nearly threw himself across the counter and kissed Brenda. Instead, he offered her his hand and shook hers roughly after writing down the address. "You are a life saver, Brenda! Bless you."

She blushed and swatted his hand away. "Nothin' to it."

Ryan picked his backpack off the floor, threw it over his shoulder, waved goodbye to Brenda, and ran out the sliding glass doors. He called Grantaire once standing in the parking lot, now bereft of a ride to Éponine's, though the thought hadn't crossed his mind yet.

"_Well?" _Grantaire's voice was full of unease.

"I got it."


	10. The Big Bang

**A/N: Thanks for all your reviews! I've written ahead, so I think I can officially resume my Monday-Wednesday-Friday updating schedule. Also, I do admit that the better part of this story is dull and depressing and I'm very sorry for that. We're about to speed things up, though.**

**Trigger warning: gun violence. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Ten: _The Big Bang_

.::.

_March 21__st__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

They'd fallen into the habit of sleeping together. Not _sleeping_ sleeping together, but simple, innocent sleeping together. Jason would wait until Gavroche was in his room for the evening to trek down to Éponine's room and take his place on the far end of her bed. She'd insisted that he stay as far away from her as possible; she called it a precaution. But still, Jason always spent the night in her room, waking up whenever she had one of her nightmares, only to calm her right back to sleep; by dawn, he was gone.

One particular night, after Gavroche had supposedly fallen asleep (though Éponine could see the light of his TV from underneath the door), Jason entered Éponine's room, like usual. She stood, staring into her open closet, taking stock of what she had for the summer.

"Can I open the window? It's really nice out tonight."

"I don't care," she said, waving him away dismissively.

Jason opened her window, making a mental note to find the screen he'd taken off and put it back on again in the morning. He glanced out onto the sidewalk and then returned to the bed, taking his place on the side closest to the window. Picking up his book from the bedside table, Jason began to read, hoping Éponine would soon stop poking around in her closet. He'd had a rough day at work – broken copier, terrible meetings, disciple issues – and was eager to get some shut-eye. At last, she shut the door and flopped onto the bed, huffing.

"What?"

"I've got nothing to wear." Éponine pouted, picking at a small scab on her knee.

"Biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard." Jason sighed and rubbed his eyes, closing his book. He set it on the bedside table and turned off the light, laying down under the covers. Éponine followed suit, mumbling under her breath. She blew out a deep breath, humming in contentment.

"Now remember – " She started, holding up a finger.

"'Stay on my side.' I know, Éponine, thanks."

Éponine scoffed. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

Jason shook his head, crossing his arms, staring up at the ceiling. The moonlight poured into the bedroom through the open window, allowing Jason a good source of light to see nearly every bit of the room, though it was dim. A slight breeze blew through once and awhile, causing the hairs on his arms to stand up.

"Nothing," he finally responded. "I feel like I'm a zip code away, though."

At this, Éponine chuckled. "Good!"

Rolling his eyes, Jason rolled onto his side, his back facing her. "Goodnight, Éponine."

"Jason, I'm sorry – "

"_Goodnight_."

She exhaled and whispered "Goodnight" before letting her head fall into her pillow.

.::.

_March 21__st__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

Ryan muttered her address over and over, constantly reminding himself of his destination. Tennis shoe clad feet pounding into the sidewalk, he checked every house number until he finally found hers. Whistling softly, he nodded in approval, taking in the grandeur of the house as he stepped up the front porch stairs.

"Good on ya, Éponine," he whispered. Palms damp and heart racing, he poised his fist over the door, ready to knock. He dropped his hand and took a step back, shaking his head. Maybe she was happy? Maybe she wouldn't want him to show up? Maybe it was too late?

It would be pointless to come so far only to turn back merely feet away from her.

Resolutely, rooted firm in his decision, Ryan knocked on the front door.

.::.

_March 21__st__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

When Éponine awoke from her nightmare, Jason was there, like always. In fact, he'd already been awake. So when she shot up in bed, chest heaving, her mouth open in a small, silent scream, he gathered her up into his arms quickly. The movement happened so fast Éponine barely had time to process it. She found herself settled in the middle of Jason's lap, his hands skimming up to rest on the back of her head. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and Éponine relaxed, her breathing returning to normal.

Often, when Éponine would wake up, Jason would comfort her with kisses. Innocent pecks on the cheek, much like the ones Éponine's grandmother had given her when she was still alive. But he began to act differently. Instead of the small pecks, he continuously planted warm, wet kisses along her jaw and her neck.

Éponine's breathing heightened and, almost without thinking, she titled her head back to give him more access. "Jason – " Her voice sounded odd, even to her – deeper, raspy, something she hadn't heard in a long time. In fact, she hadn't felt like this in a long time.

When his lips found hers, they devoured one another. Éponine's lips felt unpracticed and her limbs slightly stiff, but the feeling of Jason holding her like no one had in too long of a time was too good to pass up.

Faintly, the pair both heard the doorbell ring.

"Just forget about it," he said hastily. Gently, he pushed her back and instead of her head hitting the mattress, Éponine's skull met the foot-board with a dull thump. Éponine tore her lips from Jason's to rub her head and laugh loudly; Jason groaned and pulled apart from her completely.

When her laughter had subsided, Éponine pulled herself up onto her elbows, wiping the tears from her eyes. They stared at one another. Jason looked away first, rubbing his hands on his thighs. Éponine opened her mouth to make amends, but Jason returned to his side of the bed, burying himself beneath the covers. She sighed and did the same, though there was no way she was going to fall asleep now.

.::.

_March 21__st__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

No one answered the door. Even after he rang the doorbell, Ryan was left on the front porch, looking through the front windows into the house. He crossed around the wrap-around porch, searching for any other way in.

He'd broken into someone's house before. How hard could it be to do it again?

Stepping out onto the lush, side yard, Ryan peered up toward the second story. His heart jumped in his chest when he saw the open window. He narrowed his eyes as he saw someone pass the window for a moment; it was obviously a male figure, of that Ryan was sure. Did she already have a boyfriend? Ryan doubted it. Glancing toward the side of the house, where a section of a thin white ladder had been nailed into the siding, allowing for a vine to weave its way through, Ryan knew he'd hit the jackpot. Carefully, he began his scale up the wall.

.::.

_March 21__st__; San Antonio, Texas._

.::.

The second time Éponine woke up it was not because of her nightmares; Jason's incessant moving in and out of the bed had disturbed her. Her eyes blinked open and she yawned, squinting. Jason sat half-way up, his upper body shielding her view of the window.

"Jason, what is – "

He turned around and placed a finger to his lips. The window creaked, not of its own accord, and Éponine's heart skipped one beat too many. She leaned forward, her upper body pressing against Jason's back. The window creaked again, except louder; there was a muffled grunt as Éponine saw the outline of a hand curl over the window sill. Jason turned around and placed a sloppy kiss to her lips.

"Cover your ears," he whispered. The figure slowly grew: Éponine could see his shoulders and upper chest as he pulled himself up into the window. The moonlight behind him obscured the view of his face. A knee landed on the window sill.

Éponine shook her head and gripped Jason's arm, but he was too strong, wrenching out of her grasp to open the bedside table. Before she could blink, or warn the intruder, Jason shot off the gun. The sound echoed in the house. Gavroche woke up with a high-pitched scream. Across the street, she heard dogs begin to bark. The figured grunted and toppled into the room, sprawling out onto the floor, away from Éponine's view. Jason pointed to the door and forcefully said, "Lock that and then get back onto the bed! _Now_."

Éponine did as he told her, hiding her face from the moaning man on the floor. She crawled back onto the bed and grabbed a pillow to squeeze. Jason knelt onto the floor, throwing his gun to the side.

"Éponine! Éponine, open up! Did you hear that, Éponine? _Please!_" Gavroche's small fists pounded onto the door relentlessly and the doorknob jiggled as he tried to force it open. Éponine bit her lip, shaking her head.

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening," she muttered, closing her eyes tightly.

"Éponine, please, I'm scared!"

Jason looked up from the floor and locked eyes with her. "Do not open that door."

"But what if he thinks I'm – "

Jason shook his head. "Let me do my job, dammit! Do not open that door!"

Éponine nodded; the crack she'd formed in her lip began to bleed. She inched toward the edge of the bed, her curiosity over taking her. Jason hovered over the groaning man, pressing onto his chest, muttering "Hold on. Stay with me."

"Is he – "

Jason's blood covered hand flew into the air to wave her away. "Stay back!"

"Let me help you," she replied, stepping onto the carpet. The movement felt like a direct defiance to the Witness Protection Program. They'd sent Jason to help keep her safe; she should be listening to him, not ignoring him. Éponine knelt on the opposite side of the man, taking his hand in hers. She looked to Jason. "What can I do?"

Jason, his eyes in a frenzy, pointed to the wound on the man's left side, near his stomach. "Press on that," he said breathlessly. "I need to get some bandages." Before she could respond, he took her hands and pressed them into the wound; he then took off for her bathroom, throwing open every cabinet in his sight.

The man beneath her hands gasped for breath. Blood poured between Éponine's fingers, warm and thick. She tried not to think about how she could almost feel an organ. Tilting her head to the ceiling, Éponine winced, gritting her teeth.

"Éponine..."

Her name, airy and light, caught her immediate attention.

Her gut sank as her head turned toward the man on the floor. Almost too afraid to speak, she remained silent, finally seeing him in the light for the first time.

"_É__ponine,_" he drawled – a prayer, a plea.

Éponine swallowed. "Ry – Ryan?"

"Éponine." His eyes, glistening with tears, exuded joy, even in the deepest pain. "I knew – I knew I could – "

"What are you doing here?" Éponine felt her throat constrict as Ryan's face contorted in pain.

"Finding – you."

"How on earth did you find me?"

A pool of sweat formed on Ryan's forehead and over his lips and under his arms; he tried to twist, alleviate the pain, but Éponine held fast. "June – she – "

"Oh my God, Ryan," she breathed, staring at the gaping wound in his side.

From the bathroom, Jason cursed. "Fuck! There's only bath-towels in here." He rushed out and pushed Éponine away, pressing the towels into the wound. Éponine fell back, her back hitting the wall beneath the window. She lifted her hand to her mouth, smearing blood across her cheeks and chin. Disbelief coursed through her. She didn't think she would ever see Ryan again. But seeing him, on her bedroom floor, bleeding profusely, she knew just about anything was possible from then on.

"You're gonna be fine, man," Jason said, pulling his phone out from his pocket.

The pounding on the door continued as Gavroche had reduced into sobs. Barely five minutes had passed since Jason had shot off the gun.

"Éponine – " Ryan reached for her hand and Jason glanced between them as she took his hand with a sudden understanding. He cursed under his breath.

"I'm here," Éponine said, her throat choking.

"You're safe."

"Yes, of course." She grinned, stinging tears blurring her vision.

Ryan's eyes lolled and he struggled to keep his breath. "That's all – that matters."

Éponine stroked his cheek, shaking her head; a tear of her own fell onto his forehead. "No! Don't say that. You're going to be fine. Ryan, listen to me: you are gonna be – "

"You were always my best friend, Ronny, and – " Ryan's eyes snapped open and he fought for control, his limbs turning to solid lead. After a moment, he relaxed, his eyes hazed over. Jason, on the phone with the head of the Program, sighed, rubbing his chin.

Éponine shook her head, the tears falling freely. She slowly lowered his eyelids. Sobs racked her small frame, but refused to make themselves known through her voice. She pressed her ear against his chest, listening for any tiny sign of life. There was none. She straightened and grabbed his shoulder, shaking it gently.

"Wake up," she whispered.

"Babe," Jason scooted to her side, but Éponine swatted him away. He backed away slowly.

Éponine bent over Ryan's prone body and finally released an ear-piercing scream.

Gavroche began to kick the door with his foot, yelling at the top of his lungs to open the door. Jason spoke rapidly into the phone about protocol. Next door, the neighbors turned on their bedroom light, awakened by all the commotion.

Jason hung up, moving to stand near Éponine's still form. She glanced up, scowling. Though deep in her heart, Éponine knew Jason couldn't have had any of idea of who it was crawling through the window, she lashed out, standing up only to throw herself at him, clawing at whatever skin she could find. Jason fought back until he had her pinned up against the wall by her wrists. Éponine struggled, kicking at his shins. She shook her head, screaming and crying and cursing.

"It was an accident, Éponine! I had no idea that it was Ryan! You know that!"

Éponine sobbed, trying to break her wrists free. "You still _killed him_."

"I was only trying to wound him, not kill him!" Jason let go of her wrists and she sunk to the floor, fisting her hands in the carpet. Jason sat down by her side, glancing at the blood that covered his fingers. "I'm so sorry..."

Éponine shook her head, looking away.

After a long pause, Jason stood up. "I suggest you begin packing your things. We'll be out of here by tomorrow afternoon."

* * *

**Before you start hurling things at me, here me out: This has been planned since the beginning. And hate me if you want, but Ryan's death was not for nothing. Trust me.**

**Tell me how you're feeling!**

**Jess**


	11. Wine Country

**A/N: Updating earlier today because I'm leaving in like ten minutes. I want to thank everyone for being so honest with me about last chapter. It really meant a lot and your concerns have been heard. :D **

**Over halfway through with the story now! We've still got bunches to cover, though. I've got some exciting things planned, so you'll want to make sure you stick around. **

**trigger warning: mention of child abuse.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Eleven: _Wine Country_

.::.

_March 26__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

Enjolras got the news of Grantaire's boyfriend's death via voice-mail. He walked through the door after a trip to the vet, carrying two pet carriers, each weighed down by mewling cats, to be greeted by the last ring of the telephone. Groaning, he set the carriers down and let the cats loose. He waited for the beep and the beginning of the message to play.

The sound of Lucy's voice caught him completely off guard. _"Hey, Jacky. This is Lucy. Ah – look, I'll make this short. We got word over the weekend that Ryan was in a drive-by shooting accident in Texas and that he died. So, yeah, if you could maybe give Axel a call – he's the reason I have your number, by the way. My parents are really worried. Anyway. Hope you like Colorado. Bye."_

Hands braced against the counter, Enjolras frowned into his living room. He'd never been particularly close to Ryan. In fact, he wasn't sure the two had ever spoken besides whenever they were at the café and Enjolras had given Ryan his order. But being killed in a drive-by? Even for the worst, that wasn't the way to go. Enjolras had only spoken to Grantaire once since he'd moved and it was the obligatory "I'm okay. Yes, I have a house. No, I'm not doing drugs" phone call he'd promised before leaving. Grantaire would most likely be drinking himself into oblivion.

Enjolras knew what that felt like. For the most part, he cleaned his act up. Besides a beer here and there during the week, he no longer sought comfort in liquor. He didn't want Grantaire going down the same path he had.

Enjolras set out the cat's dinner and picked the phone up from off its base. He glared at the numbers before typing Grantaire's in. It rang five times.

"_Yeah?" _Grantaire sounded devoid of emotion at worst, bored at best.

"I heard about Ryan. I really sorry, man." Enjolras cut to the chase, sitting down on the edge of the coffee table. Thor came up and twined himself around Enjolras' ankles, settling down on top of his bare foot.

Grantaire sighed deeply. _"Aren't we all?"_

"Is there anything – "

"_No." _

Enjolras nodded, rubbing his chin. "Well, don't hesitate to – "

"_He went to Texas to find Éponine, you know."_

This floored Enjolras. In truth, for the past several weeks, she hadn't crossed his mind. It felt freeing, in a way. He no longer felt his shoulders weighed down by her memory. He'd even hung up the picture Grantaire had given him for Christmas on his bedroom wall after refusing to unpack it for so long.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his throat suddenly tight. He stood up, accidentally kicking Thor with his foot. The cat hissed and meowed, scurrying away to his place on the couch.

"_I mean he found her."_

"I – I don't – "

"_I just thought I would tell you."_

Enjolras hesitated before asking, "Do you know where she is?"

"_Not a fucking clue."_

"Okay, alright. Well, Grantaire, really, call me if you need anything."

"_I probably won't."_

Enjolras couldn't help but laugh. "Take care of yourself.

"_I'm only going to say yes to appease you."_

"That makes me feel _loads _better. Thanks." Enjolras rolled his eyes.

Grantaire's tone turned somber quickly. _"Bye, Jack."_

"Bye, 'Taire." Enjolras hung up, placing the phone back on its base slowly. He looked up, staring at the wall. He put a hand on his chest; his heart raced.

Texas.

What was that – two, three states away?

Éponine was in _Texas_.

Immediately, Enjolras' brain jumped to the worst case scenario: He would drive to Texas, somehow find her (Maybe he'd have to blackmail a couple of people to do it, but he was an expert in blackmailing.), and then probably get shot in a drive-by just like Ryan. Or he would find her and she would be with someone else – married, with a baby. Either situation had the potential to kill him.

He paced his living room floor, biting his nails down to the quickly. Reginald came out from hiding and sat in the on the floor, watching him pace intently. Enjolras soon found himself talking, not only to himself, but to his cats. "Should I go find her?" He stopped walking and faced Reginald. "I want to, but – "

But there was something holding him back.

He couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe it was because he didn't know if him showing up unannounced would put her in danger? Or maybe it was because he didn't have any idea of what he would say? Or maybe it was because he was scared?

Reginald meowed and walked away. Enjolras swallowed hard. He knew where Éponine was now. His gut twisted as he sat down on the couch. Every part of him revolted as he did.

He should've been out the door, hailing a cab, flying to Texas by now. Instead, he turned on the TV and stroked Thor's back.

.::.

_March 27__th__; Sonoma County, California._

.::.

California had everything Éponine could have wanted: space, warmth, the beach. California also had everything Éponine didn't want: Jason, pompous wine snobs, Jason. And of course, she would just so happen to be moved to the middle of wine-sob land and still be stuck with Jason. After the Program had picked up Ryan's body and sent it back to Maine under the pretense of a drive-by shooting, Éponine, Gavroche, and Jason had been bolted to their new home in California. She barely had time to gather her wits before she was setting up her new bedroom in the modern-style home overlooking an extensive winery.

It made her puke.

At least they'd been given the freedom to keep their identities – although Éponine couldn't tell if that was a blessing or a curse. She wouldn't have to go through another manila folder, but she was _still_ stuck with Jason. And it didn't look like she would be getting away from him any time soon.

"Can you hand me the box cutter please, Gavroche?" Jason reached his arm out toward the young boy sitting on the floor, rooting through a box of his own. He didn't respond to Jason's question. "Gavroche, please hand me the box cutter." Jason's tone shifted from questioning to firm. Éponine looked up from where she sat on the floor near a wide window going through a box of plates.

"Gav, give him the box cutter," she said, running her hand over a smooth, creamy piece of china. Once more, the boy did not respond. Éponine rolled her eyes and set the plate on top of the pile before her. "_Gavroche._"

With a disgruntled sigh, he bent over his box and reached for the box cutter, handing it to Jason without turning his head. Jason's nostrils flared as he grabbed it from Gav's fingers. "Thank you," he said, sarcastic and dripping with anger.

Gavroche turned around, hands on his hips. "Well, you don't gotta be rude about it, Jason."

Éponine felt her stomach clench. Since their move several days previously, tensions had been running more than high in the household. Gavroche barely spoke or looked at both Éponine and Jason. Éponine wouldn't go near Jason. And Jason stomped about the house, muttering to himself.

No one had taken the move well.

And if Éponine knew anything about Jason, it was that he did not tolerate disrespect. From anyone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him take several deep breaths as he stood up. He knew she was watching him and she knew Gavroche was testing him. If Jason made one wrong move in handling her brother, he knew Éponine would be out the door, Gavroche in tow, before he could say "Bob's your uncle."

Slowly, he set the box cutter on the kitchen bar counter top. "I do not appreciate your tone of voice."

Éponine bit back a scoff.

"Well, soooorrrry." Gavroche held up his hands in the air, rolling his eyes.

Jason's hands curled into fists at his side. "Do not speak to me that way. Whether you like it or not, I am your elder, and I am the man of this house – "

"You're not my dad!" Gavroche stomped his foot on the floor, his face coloring deeply.

"I never said I was your dad!" Jason pounded his fist onto the counter top. "I'm your brother-in-law. Your sister and I are married!"

"No, you're not!"

"Yes, we are. I'll show you the damn papers, kid! I do not want you talking to me that way again, do you understand? It's disrespectful and – "

Gavroche shook his head and grabbed his toys from off the floor, stomping to the staircase that lead up to the small second floor that only held two bedrooms and a bathroom. "Fine – maybe I just won't talk to you at all!"

"Fine!"

"_Fine!_"

With a final stomp, Gavroche pounded up the stairs, across the walkway, and into his room, slamming the door as hard as he could. The sound echoed around the vaulted ceilings and spacious first floor. From her place on the floor, Éponine began to chuckle.

"_What_ is so funny?!"

"You," she replied, standing up. She picked up the pile of plates and carefully walked into the kitchen, placing them on the island. "He will never respect you if you yell at him."

Jason scoffed and flipped a roll of tape into the air. "I don't think he respects anyone."

Éponine narrowed her eyes at his back, gripping a plate tightly in her hands. "No one has given him any reason to earn his respect."

Jason's head slowly turned and their eyes met for the briefest of moments. Éponine went back to loading the plates into the cabinet. She sighed and brushed her hands off on her capris when she'd finished the job.

"Every morning, before we left for school, work, whatever, my mom would tell us the same thing: 'Remember not to come home empty handed.' We always had to bring home money or food – something to show our worth, I guess." Éponine shrugged and shook her head, laughing ruefully. "And if we didn't – Well, let's just say our teachers knew better than to ask why we had welts and bruises."

"What does that have to do with Gavroche?"

"The only person Gavroche has ever truly respected was Ryan because he never yelled at him. I used to get him to watch Gav when I had to work late or Jack and I went on a date, and when I came home, Ryan would tell me how much of a pain in the ass the kid was, but how he had it under control. Ryan was stern and true to his word, but he never yelled. That really impacted Gav for some reason."

"So you're telling me not to yell at him anymore? To let him talk to me like that?"

Éponine rolled her eyes, nearly groaning. "No. I'm telling you to pull the stick out of your ass and act like a man. Just talk to him like he's a normal human being, okay?"

Jason didn't respond for awhile and Éponine returned to her previous spot on the floor, pulling over the next unopened box. "That's the most we've spoken since – "

"I know. And it won't happen again."

"Éponine, we really need to work this out. How are we supposed to live together if – "

Éponine grunted as she tugged at the box flaps. "Jason, we live together only because of the Program. I don't love you; you don't love me. God, I barely even like you right now." She fell back onto her haunches once she'd opened the box, glaring in his general direction. "I love Jack," she said matter-of-factly. "I always will. Whatever the hell happened back in Texas – all those kisses and sleeping together and almost fucking – that's gone. Forget about it, okay?"

Jason itched his forehead and nodded, staring at the floor. "I'm going for a walk."

"Great. Don't get lost in all of those grapes. I don't know if I would have the heart to come and find you at the moment."


	12. Telephone Wires

**A/N: Things are moving! Please remember to tell me what you're thinking. Reviews drive me. ;)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Twelve: _Telephone Wires_

.::.

_March 28__th__; Miami, Florida_

.::.

Max Landon happened to be quite a prideful man. So when Veronica Rose Walter had broken up with him right when he was recovering from a major drug addiction, his pride had been a little more than crushed.

More like pulverized. Even more so when, through gossip spread by the worst nurses he'd ever come in contact with, Max found out Veronica was already "seeing someone" barely two days after she'd ended things with him. Some guy by the name of Jack Enjolras – a resident sex god who apparently didn't have much sex.

Angry and bitter, he'd high-tailed it out of West Bath, Maine as fast as possible once discharged from the hospital, grabbing an open job for a middle school teacher in Miami, Florida. There he'd coincidentally met Ben Montparnasse, one of Veronica's ex-boyfriends. Well, _É__ponine's _ex-boyfriend. It was funny, how in a world so large, Max ran into Ben. Bonding over a mutual loathing for Éponine, the pair jokingly plotted her demise over beers and weed. It'd all started out as fun and games until Max mistakenly called Jack Enjolras.

Then things took a turn for the worse – or maybe the better? Max wasn't so sure.

Max had told Ben of his mistake – how he'd meant to call Ben's new number, but somehow ended up calling (of all people) Jack Enjolras and how he was the guy Éponine had left him for, apparently. Ben had been elated, and it wasn't long until Max had nearly gotten himself into a heap of trouble helping Ben try to break Éponine's father out of prison. After her mother had broken out months before, a small ring had formed, attempting to figure out how to release her father. Their plan – executed too early – had back-fired, and they narrowly escaped being caught. Ultimately, the plan was to get Éponine and Gavroche back to Florida, back to "where they belonged," and that could be more easily accomplished if they had Paul Thenardier on their side. Besides, Ben had sworn to Max that when she returned, he could take out his revenge: he wasn't about to let _that _opportunity pass him by.

It excited him.

But it made him nervous at the same time.

Still, Max went along with Ben and his gang: drinking far into the night, smoking way too much weed to be safe for a middle school teacher, sometimes robbing a gas station here and there for added fun. It was a miracle he was still employed.

Every day, Max went to work, rode through the motions, and at night, he drank, and smoked, and pillaged, and planned. He was just waiting for the day when Ben would stand up and say, "Max, she's back."

It was only a matter of time.

.::.

_March 29__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

"So what you're telling me is that your bestfriend's boyfriend found out where you kinda-sorta girlfriend lives and he went all the way to Texas to find her and then got killed in a drive-by?" Cory repeated Enjolras' tale, waving his fork around.

Enjolras nodded, stabbing his fork into his Chinese food. "Yeah."

"And, remind me, why aren't you in Texas right now?"

Taking a bite of his egg roll, Enjolras shrugged. "I dunno."

Cory dropped his fork, shaking his head. "Nope, no answer."

They sat on Enjolras' living room floor, sort of playing X-Box, sort of stuffing their faces with Chinese food at the same time. Enjolras had invited Cory over for dinner that Friday night after work to try to actually form some-what of a friendship. In Cory's eyes, they were probably best friends, but to Enjolras, they were still in the stage of awkward acquaintances. If he was going to stay in Colorado forever, he might as well have _one _good friend.

"I just don't want to go and find her," he said slowly. Blatant, _blatant _lie. Deep in his gut, Enjolras felt the ever-constant drive to up and leave the record store, hop in the next plane, and find her. But his fear held him back.

"You're lying."

Enjolras' jaw clenched as he shook his head. "I am not."

"You're not looking at me. You're looking at the plate." Cory scoffed. "Of course you're lying."

He looked up quickly. "Cory, this isn't – "

"Look, if I _ever _got the chance to see Ellie again if she had disappeared, I would take it. Even if it meant going through or seeing painful things." He raised his eyebrows, eating a large bite of food.

Enjolras had to admit that Cory had him pegged. He wouldn't ever say it out loud, but the two had gone through similar losses. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

Cory shrugged and stood up, carrying his plate to the sink. As he washed his hands, he glanced across the hall, casually catching a glance of the law degree that hung on Enjolras' bedroom wall. "Hey! I didn't know you were a lawyer!"

Enjolras colored and stood up quickly, running to close his bedroom door. "Yeah, not anymore."

Cory nodded sympathetically. "Oh, yeah, Éponine?"

"No, actually," Enjolras bit back.

"Fine. Touchy, touchy."

"I'm – I'm sorry. The law firm I was at just didn't work out – that's all."

"It's fine. The information is just good for reference."

"Why?"

Cory flashed him a toothy grin. "You never know – maybe I'll need a lawyer."

Enjolras chuckled, gathering the leftovers from the living room. "Yeah, maybe."

.::.

_April 3__rd__; Sonoma County, California._

.::.

Rule number one of the Witness Protection Program was quiet simple: _Under no circumstances should the witness attempt to make contact with anyone from their previous life._

Éponine had managed to break that rule twice: once with Adrienne, and the second time with Grantaire. Like always, it rained throughout April. And after being cooped up in the house with a sulking Jason and a bitter Gavroche, Éponine itched for freedom. So, she left one afternoon to go to the local library. Only, she'd gotten sidetracked by a small bistro and ended up calling Grantaire using the pay-phone the shop provided for the general public. There was no doubt in her mind that Jason kept track of her phone records; it was better to be safe than sorry.

Continuously looking over her shoulder, the breath in her lungs stilled when Grantaire answered the phone. _"Hello?"_

"R! R, it's me – Éponine!" She bent toward the wall, hiding herself from the customers, no doubt only making herself look more suspicious.

"_É__ponine? Is – is it really – "_

"Yes, it's me!" She bit back a large smile threatening to crack her face in two.

"_Oh my god.."_

"How are you?" she breathed, her stomach clenching. "I know about – I know about Ryan." There was no way she would tell him she'd been in the room when Ryan was shot; there was no way she could tell him the truth.

Grantaire's sigh wavered. _"I – I'm alright."_

"Bullshit," she whispered, shaking her head. Éponine glanced over her shoulder once more, just in case. "How are you, _really_?"

"_Where are you?" _He changed the subject deftly, catching Éponine off guard.

After a long moment, she composed herself. "I – I can't say."

"_You can't? Or you won't?" _His tone was biting, rude.

Éponine pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. "Both."

"_I've talked with Enjolras – "_

Éponine sucked in a sharp, harsh breath.

"_He knows where you are."_

She shook her head lightly, the hair falling away from behind her ears. _Not anymore_, she thought. Still, the idea of Jack knowing where she'd used to be made her heart skip a beat. How long had he known? Why hadn't he tried to come and find her? Her feelings for him had not waned; she was positive – more than positive – that she loved him. Though she didn't think of him as much as she had once she'd first moved to Texas, he still circled her thoughts often.

She wondered if he'd stopped thinking about her, if he'd moved on. Her heart told her he hadn't. Even though their relationship had only been in the beginning stages, Éponine knew they'd shared _something_ special. But then again, her mind reminded her of how inexperienced Enjolras was when it came to relationships. He surely would have been able to move on faster than she.

"And?" she asked, voice quiet.

"_I'm not sure."_

"He's not – not coming to find me?"

"_I don't know. __É__ponine, _where _are you?! Please tell me." _He choked back a sob and Éponine held back one of her own. _"I – I need you."_

"I can't tell you," she whispered.

"_Please – tell me."_

Éponine tilted her head back, breathing heavily. "I can't!" She pounded a clenched fist onto the wall in anger. "I have to go."

"_Fine, you're right. You probably broke a lot of rules to call me in the first place."_

"Grantaire, please, you have to understand – "

"_I understand perfectly well. Thank you for calling me, I guess."_

"Grantaire – "

He hung up before she could finish her sentence.

.::.

_April 5__th__; Denver, Colorado_

.::.

Enjolras tried dating again for the second time. He didn't know what possessed him to do it – probably just exercising his free will – but he did it anyway. Her name was Marie, and Enjolras was unwilling to admit to himself that she bore a striking resemblance to Éponine. They met at a fancy restaurant in Denver and she ordered barely any food, maybe trying to impress him.

After a good bit of stilted conversation – bland and nothing of substance, Enjolras' cellphone rang. Normally, he would have colored and excused himself, ignoring the call. But checking the caller ID and finding Grantaire's name on the screen, he excused himself to take the call. Stepping away from Marie's line of sight, he held the phone to his ear.

"Axel? You okay?"

"_Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" _

"Are you.. running?"

On the other end of the line, Grantaire's voice cracked and the background noise turned quiet suddenly. His breathing grew labored. _"No – well, yes, kind of. Look, I've got something to tell you."_

"I'm kind of in the middle of something right now." Enjolras leaned back and caught a glance of Marie on her phone, tapping her foot impatiently.

"_I guarantee this is more important."_

Enjolras groaned and rubbed his forehead, turning around to face the wall behind him. "Okay. Shoot."

"_I pretty much have __É__ponine's_ _exact location."_

"What do you mean?" Enjolras glanced at Marie once more.

"_What do you mean what do I mean?! I know where she is!" _

Against his better judgment, but centered on the rapid beating of his heart, Enjolras whispered, "Where?"

"_California!"_

"California?" Enjolras recoiled. "I thought you said – "

"_Texas, I know. But she called me like two days ago and I tracked down where the number came from: some random-ass bistro in California."_

"She – she called you?"

"_Not the point. The point is I'm running in the airport trying to catch my flight to Colorado Springs because you and I are going to California."_ He paused. _"So, when can you pick me up from the airport?"_

Without a second of hesitation, Enjolras replied, "The minute you land."


	13. Highline Bistro

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your reviews last chapter! Things are definitely starting to roll now. (Also, shoutout to _judybear236_ for always being so great and checking my chapters for me!)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: _Highline Bistro_

.::.

_April 6__th__; Colorado Springs, Colorado._

.::.

Enjolras anxiously awaited Grantaire's arrival.

He'd decided that he was through with sitting on the sidelines. He loved Éponine. Screw the Witness Protection Program! He could protect her just fine by himself. Besides, Colorado was worlds away from where-ever-the-hell she'd moved to Maine from. She would be safe with him. But (though he didn't like to think about it) if she had moved on, he would try to find a way to do the same. It was really up to her.

Tapping his foot and wringing his hands together, he waited in the baggage claim, watching for Grantaire with bated breath. Finally, the curly-haired man walked into the baggage claim, staring at his ticket. Enjolras started forward, carefully pushing people out-of-the-way.

"Grantaire!" He raised his arm, waving it to the side. "Axel!"

Grantaire looked up from his ticket and grinned. He pulled Enjolras into a hug, squeezing him tightly. "Good to see you, Jack," he said, pulling back. Lightly, he tapped Enjolras' left cheek. "Sorry. I meant to fly into Denver, but somehow ended up coming into Colorado Springs."

Enjolras waved the matter off. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Enjolras sighed. "I'm sorry about Ryan."

Grantaire visibly paled, but shrugged. "I'll get over it."

"Do you wanna talk about – "

A loud buzz sounded from one of the trollies. "Oh! My luggage." Grantaire moved away quickly, ending the conversation. Enjolras followed after him, making a mental note to stray away from the topic of Ryan's death for the time being.

After his luggage was collected and a taxi hailed, Grantaire filled Enjolras in with what he could. "So that's all I really know: she lives somewhere near Sonoma County and our flight leaves tomorrow at seven."

"Isn't that where all the wine is made?" Enjolras scratched his head, taking the small slip of paper from Grantaire's hand. On it was written _Highline Bistro 1573 Highline Drive (707)-343-5712. _

"That's the phone-number from where she called me. Caller ID is a miracle."

Enjolras nodded. "Do you think you can find it?"

Grantaire shrugged, taking the piece of paper back. "I mean, I _think _so, but – "

"Hey, you guys, I don't mean to interrupt," the taxi driver cut in, his voice heightened with curiosity, "but are you trying to find some girl? Or like.. kill her?"

Enjolras slowly turned his head toward the front of the vehicle. Grantaire laughed nervously once he caught sight of his friend's face. "Find – find someone, of course."

"Okay, okay! Just checking. But if do you do kill someone and I have to get up – you know, up on the witness stand or whatever, what are you names?"

"Buddy, why don't you just shut the hell up and drive?! That's what we're paying you to – "

"_Enjolras,_" Grantaire warned in a low voice.

He rolled his eyes and sat back with a breathy huff. The taxi driver ceased talking with embarrassment. The car descended into an awkward silence. Enjolras stared out the window, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The taxi driver, red in the face, hummed nervously to himself. Grantaire's eyes flitted over the pattern of the carpet on the floor; he'd never seen such pattern on a car floor.

"Hey, you got some tattoos," he said, his eyes falling on the wolf profile on Enjolras' arm.

Enjolras looked down, scoffing. "Oh, yeah. Four, actually." He pointed to the rose on this opposite arm and then rolled up his t-shirt sleeve, pointing to _Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité _on his bicep. "There's one on my back, too."

"_Four?!_"

He nodded, smiling with amusement. "Yes, four. I may actually get another."

Grantaire slowly picked up his jaw. "The thinner air here must have done something to your head."

Enjolras shrugged. "Hopefully for the better."

Before Grantaire could respond, his phone began to ring. Pulling it out of his pocket, he glanced at Enjolras, raising his eyebrows. Enjolras nearly fell out of the car, his heart beating wildly. "Is it her?" he whispered quickly, keeping his voice low.

Grantaire nodded. He put a finger to his lips and raised the phone to his ear. "Hello? Yeah, it's me." There was a long pause. "No, I'm not doing anything at the moment."

"Don't tell her I'm here," Enjolras bent forward, whispering closely in to Grantaire's ear. The other man swatted him away like a fly, bending the opposite direction.

"Sorry. Could you say that again?" He plugged his unoccupied ear with his finger. "Who? No, I don't know who that is. Oh, oh, I see." Another long pause. Enjolras strained his ears, but couldn't make out what she was saying; he could barely even hear her voice. "Then where did – alone? Hello? I can't hear what you're saying, hun. Please – Why are you calling me? You told me you weren't going to – _Okay!_ Geez. No, wait! Please, come on, you know I didn't mean – "

He sighed deeply, pulling the phone away from his ear. "She hung up."

"What – what did she say?"

Grantaire shoved the phone into his pocket, shaking his head. "Honestly, I'm not really sure. It was incredibly loud behind her. All I got was something about some guy named Jason and some other guy, but she didn't say his name."

Enjolras bit his knuckle, looking out the window to his side. He couldn't help but feel a sudden wave of disappointment flood over him; he bit the inside of his cheek hard, nearly drawing blood.

"Hey, I'm sure he was nothing." Grantaire hesitantly touched Enjolras' shoulder.

They drove the rest way of the way to Denver in silence.

.::.

_April 6__th__; Sonoma County, California._

.::.

They called it Removal. After a small investigation into Ryan's death had been launched and Jason found guilty, he had been removed from California and placed on a "leave of absence."

He'd basically gotten fired.

Like everything with the Program, it had happened incredibly fast and smooth. Jason left without a huff and was sent off by Éponine and Gavroche with a stilted goodbye. One day later, the new William Polichie had arrived – a Mister Tanner Kauffman. The same age as Jason, as equally, if not more so, attractive, and also a giant asshole. Upon his arrival, he made two things perfectly clear: he had no intention of becoming "involved" with Éponine and he didn't expect to form any sort of relationship with them besides a business one.

Éponine hated to admit it, but she missed Jason and his kindness.

Tanner set in all the rules Jason had neglected to enforce and included some of his own: no cellphones, no laptops, no desktop computers (unless Tanner was there to supervise), no land-line phones (also unless Tanner was there to supervise), and most of all, _no teaching_. Éponine had been thrown from one prison to a more high-security one.

The only way she'd managed to make it to the Highline was under the ruse of buying feminine care products, which obviously, Tanner was unwilling to buy, unlike Jason. After buying the items, she skirted into the Highline, rather unsure of what her purpose was in being there. A poetry reading happened to be going on at the same time, so she felt safe enough to venture another call to Grantaire.

She told him of Jason's departure and Tanner's arrival, though she didn't go into explicit detail. His voice continued to break up and she thought she heard the whisperings of someone else, but brushed the thought away. She eventually gave up on trying to vaguely explain her predicament and simply ended their phone-call, rushing back home to escape the rain and Tanner's anger.

Once home, she rushed inside, shaking her hair off. Gavroche looked up from his puzzle on the floor. "Hey," he said contritely.

"Hey."

"Where were you?"

"The store." Éponine held up her CVS bag.

"Oh." Gavroche snapped a piece of the puzzle together. "Do you want to help me?" He gestured to the puzzle.

Dropping her bag on the counter, Éponine smiled. She sat down cross-legged in front of him. "Sure."

"Do you think I could maybe sleep in your room tonight?" he asked.

"Of course!"

Gavroche shrugged, staring intently at the puzzle piece. "It's no big deal, I just – you know with Jason being gone and Tanner being here – " He sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes.

Éponine reached across and took his small hand in hers. It was the most contact they'd had in months. "I miss him, too."

Gavroche slowly tilted his head to the side. "I was talking about Jack."

Éponine drew her hand away as if it had been licked by flames. "Jack?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Jack. Don't you remember? He was kind of cool."

Éponine scoffed, brushing her hair behind her ears. "Of course I remember him," she muttered.

"Like I said, he's really pretty cool. And nicer than Tanner, probably as nice as Jason. But he had nicer hair than both of them – _combined_."

They remained quiet for some time, the only sound coming from the rain hitting the windows and the wind whipping in the trees. Tanner spent most of his time at the winery, drinking mostly, not that Éponine minded. As long as he kept his distance, she was fine. It was Gavroche she was worried about. He was so impressionable. She didn't want Tanner rubbing off on him in any way.

"Why were you thinking about Jack?" she questioned.

Gavroche shrugged. "Dunno. Just was."

"Gav?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm so sorry about everything that's happened."

He looked up from the half-completed puzzle. "You couldn't control it."

She tilted her head to the side, raising her eyebrows. "I shouldn't have called Adrienne." _Or Grantaire. _

"I forgive you." He smiled brightly. "Can we order pizza?"

Éponine held back the sudden onslaught of tears behind her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Anything you want."

.::.

_April 7__th__; Colorado Springs, Colorado._

.::.

"I'm not very good with flying," Enjolras admitted, curling his fingers around the arm rest.

Beside him, Grantaire chuckled, flipping through the pages of SkyMall. "I love it."

"How long until we get there?"

"Not very long."

"You didn't answer me."

"Like two and a half hours or so. Relax, Enjolras."

"Do you have a plan for when we land?"

"No."

The man next to Enjolras casually glanced over, his eyebrows raised in interest. He returned to his crossword. Talking about flying to California was one thing; actually doing it was another. Beyond nervous, beyond jumpy, Enjolras acted like a five year old on his first flight. His left leg continuously bounced and he couldn't seem to keep his head still.

The prospect of finding Éponine, seeing her, kept Enjolras in a constant state of panic.

"But really, what are we going to do when we land?"

Grantaire groaned and snapped the magazine shut. "We will get off the plane, get our luggage, find a taxi, go to Sonoma, and find a hotel."

"I meant, like, what – how are we going to – "

Grantaire cut him off. "You found a sitter for your cats, right?"

Furrowing his brow, Enjolras nodded slowly. "Yes."

"And you took several days off of work?"

"Five – yeah."

"Then that is all you need to worry about. Leave everything else to me."

Enjolras shook his head. "That's the worst idea I've ever heard."

"Just have some faith in me, okay?" He sat back, folding his arms across his chest, closing his eyes. "Wake me up when we land."

Enjolras rolled his eyes and smiled hesitantly at the man next to him. "Can I help you?" he asked politely, regarding the man's confused stare with unease.

"You two in trouble with the law or something?" the man asked, pointing back and forth between Enjolras and Grantaire with the end of his glasses.

Enjolras held back a depressed groan. "No, sir. We are not in trouble with the law."

"You seem pretty jumpy, kid."

"Only nervous," Enjolras replied, looking forward; his leg stopped jiggling.

"Is this about a girl?"

"You could say that."

"Damn, women really get us men worked up, don't they?" The man chuckled and slipped his glasses back on, peering down at his crossword. "I remember when I met my wife for the first time. She took no shinning to me and – "

"Enjolras?"

"Combeferre!" Enjolras stood up so quickly his head connected with the roof of the plane. He rubbed the sore spot for a moment, chuckling along with his friend who stood in the middle aisle, hands on his hips. As Enjolras reached across to shake his hand eagerly, Grantaire snapped awake. "What are you doing on this flight?"

Combeferre smirked, situating his glasses. "Grantaire invited me. I've been on this plane since last night. One way ticket from Augusta to L.A."

"I did _not _invite him. He invited himself," Grantaire grumbled, holding up his hands.

"Either way, it's wonderful to see you," Enjolras said, smiling brightly.

Combeferre nodded. "It's been a long time."

Enjolras colored. "Right, about that – "

Combeferre laughed, waving a hand. "Forget about it. 'Early mid-life crisis' is what the _Amis _have been calling it when people ask about you."

"That's so kind," Enjolras drawled.

"Um, excuse me, sir, we're going to be landed soon. I'd appreciate it if you return to your seat." A young flight attendant rested her hand on Combeferre's shoulder, pointing toward the front of the cabin.

Combeferre raised his eyebrows and smiled, rubbing his hands together. "I'll see you both when we land, then." He left and took his seat once more; Enjolras sat down, shoving Grantaire's shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me he was coming?"

Grantaire shrugged. "It must have slipped my mind. Now, would you please just sit down and shut up? I was sleeping."

Enjolras smirked, shaking his head. "Whatever you need, Your Highness."


	14. Broken Dreams

**Trigger warning: physical abuse. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: _Broken Dreams _

.::.

_April 11__th__; Sonoma County, California._

.::.

Over the course of the next four days, Enjolras and Éponine crossed paths twice. Each time they crossed paths, they weren't paying attention, and the opportunity to reunite slipped through their fingers. The first time happened the second day of Enjolras' trip. Combeferre, Grantaire, and Enjolras had set themselves up in a run-down motel on the edge of Sonoma County; their lack of funds and planning put them there. Thanks to the obnoxious noise of their kind neighbors, Enjolras had been sent by the other two to go and find ear plugs.

He'd ended up walking to the nearest grocery store at half-past eleven. After buying the ear plugs as promised, he'd stared into the meat freezer for a good five minutes before turning sharply on his heel, buying the ear plugs, and leaving. If he'd only turned around instead of looking deep into the spacious wonders of the deep freezer, he would have seen Éponine bending down to pick up her box of Special K cereal.

The second time they'd been driving. Grantaire had rented a car directly once he'd left the airport and on the third day of their trip, after yet another unsuccessful stake-out at the Highline Bistro, the three had decided to go on a drive. While stopped at a red light, Enjolras' car had been directly behind Éponine's. Combeferre had thought he recognized something about the woman who turned around in the front seat, but _no, _it couldn't be her.

It definitely wasn't her.

.::.

_April 13__th__; Sonoma County, California._

.::.

Tanner had made it abundantly clear that Éponine wasn't allowed out of the house without his permission. So when she returned from a sneak visit to the Highline – her new safe haven – she was unsurprised to find herself being greeted by a visibly angry Tanner, tapping his foot on the floor. She dropped her bag on the counter, her hands instantly turning clammy.

"Where have you been?" he asked quietly.

"Out," she replied hastily, her mouth going dry. Cautiously, she walked into the living room, glancing up to the banister, where Gavroche pressed his face into the bars.

"The Highline?" Tanner raised an eloquent eyebrow.

For a moment, she remained still. Finally, she shook her head. "No."

Tanner raised his hand, heard Gavroche's gasp, and lowered it to his side. "Go to your room, Gavroche."

"No! I won't leave you alone with Éponine – "

"_I said go!_"

"Gav, go. Please." Éponine turned to face him from the bottom floor, her neck craning to see him. She urged him on with a weak smile. "I'll be okay."

The boy shot Tanner a glare and rushed to his room, slamming the door. The pair could soon hear Gavroche's music booming in his room; Éponine flashed back to Florida, to how similar the situation she found herself in at that moment was to the one of her last beating. She faced Tanner, head-strong.

"I promise, Tanner. I won't go out again." She shook her head roughly. "I know – I know that I was wrong – "

"Sit down." Interrupting her desperate attempts to calm his temper, Tanner pointed to the sofa; she obeyed, eyes focused on the edge of the fireplace. A chilling blow against her cheek snapped her trance, sending her upper-half sprawling out onto the couch. Éponine winced, but did not cry out; she clutched the pulsing flesh.

Tanner bent down in front of the couch, tilting his head so his eyes could tear into hers. "Don't ever disobey me _again_." He stood up, walking away, his bare feet slamming against the hardwood.

Éponine sat up and blinked. Rubbing her legs, she glanced around the room. The music from Gavroche's room pounded into her ears; her head throbbed; her cheek screamed. In the distance, she could hear Tanner laughing over the phone. Slowly, she stood and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. When it made contact with her skin, she sucked in a sharp, low breath, nearly pulling it away.

Éponine glanced out the window overlooking the winery. The sun had begun to set, casting an orange haze over the lush landscape. Vines heavy with fruit nearly hung to the ground. What she wouldn't give to be able to set outside, feel the crisp air.

What she wouldn't give to be free.

.::.

_April 13__th__; Sonoma County, California._

.::.

Enjolras' timing was more than unlucky – it was positively cruel _and_ heart-breakingly unlucky. He entered The Highline ten minutes after Éponine left. The trio had searched Sonoma County – specifically the area surrounding The Highline – for four and a half days, leaving no stone unturned, no idea untouched, but still no sign of Éponine or Gavroche.

No one seemed to know who they were either and if they did know, they weren't saying. Grantaire even used the names he vaguely remembered Ryan telling him: Willie and Audrey. Still, no dice.

Enjolras took a booth near the back, shoving his face into the menu. He ordered a coffee and sat back, mindlessly listening to the singers and poets who took to the stage. He rubbed a hand across his jaw, feeling the strong stubble that had begun to grow. Glancing in the window to his right, he blinked. The man staring back at him bore no resemblance to the Jack Enjolras he remembered that had left Colorado.

That Jack Enjolras had been clean-shaven, pressed, and neat, hair perfectly in order, clothes fresh and new. The Jack Enjolras staring back at him had more than a five o'clock shadow, deep rings around his eyes, skewed hair, dirty clothes. He looked away and supposed that love did that to a person: made them messy.

The door opened and he looked up sharply, instantly dismayed to see Combeferre walk in. 'Ferre walked over and sat in front of Enjolras, half-blocking his view of the door; he scooted over, just in case.

"Hey." Combeferre glanced over the menu and ordered a soda once the waitress brought over Enjolras' coffee.

Enjolras barely acknowledged Combeferre. "Hello."

"You know, Grantaire and I were talking – " Combeferre shuffled in his seat. "– and we think it may be time to.. give up."

Enjolras glared at Combeferre incredulously. "How could you say that?" he growled, frowning deeply.

Combeferre held up his hands. "Hey, stand down, soldier. The only reason we said that is because we haven't found anything yet!"

"Ezra, I didn't spend hundreds of dollars getting here and risk loosing my job for nothing. We're _going _to find her." He shook his head, reverting his stare back at the door.

"And what if we don't, huh? What are you going to do then?" Combeferre leaned over the table, jerking Enjolras' shirt sleeve to gain his attention.

"There is no 'what if,' 'Ferre!"

"Yes, there is. In fact, there are hundreds of what ifs in this situation. What if we find her? Then what? What if we don't find her? What if we find her and she's _married_?! What if we find her and she's preg – "

Enjolras stood up suddenly, his clenched fists shaking; he ground his jaw down. The movement shook the table, rattling their cups. Several customers turned to glance at them before returning to their food.

Combeferre sighed. "Sit down, Jack."

Enjolras slowly returned to his seat, his face blushing red. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – "

Combeferre shook his head, cutting him off. "We've been through a lot together, right?" Enjolras nodded. "For God's sake, I dumped beer on your head and here we are in California searching for someone in the motherfucking Witness Protection Program." He laughed bitterly and then wiped his nose. "Whatever happens, I'll be here, okay? Grantaire too."

Enjolras bit his lip, staring at his lap. Unwarranted and unwelcome, tears flooded into his eyes. He looked up, scoffing, shaking his head. "I'm really tired, 'Ferre," he whispered harshly. He slammed his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his palms. The tears fell freely from his eyelids, hitting the table with a small slap.

Combeferre reached across the table and gripped Enjolras' shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. "Hey, don't – don't cry." He looked to his right, glaring at the waitress staring at Enjolras with doe eyes. "You're Jack Enjolras. You don't cry."

This only made Enjolras cry harder. Combeferre winced and finally, switched onto Enjolras' side of the table. He wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulder and sighed. His heart hurt for his friend. He remembered the pain he'd gone through when his own girlfriend had passed away.

Enjolras sniffed violently, the sound guttural. He sat up and wiped his eyes. "I haven't cried in years."

"As a doctor, I can say with full confidence that isn't healthy."

Enjolras scoffed and let go of a breathy sigh. "Felt kind of good – considering."

"Considering what?"

"That I just cried into your shoulder in a bistro in California. That _alone _makes me want to cry."

Combeferre unwrapped his arm and took to the other side of the booth. "We can leave, if you still need to cry?" He jerked his thumb toward the door.

Enjolras shook his head and took a long drink of his tepid coffee. "No thanks."

Combeferre raised his eyebrows and grabbed a menu from the side of the table. "So, is there anything good to eat here?"

.::.

_April 16__th__; Sonoma County, California._

.::.

Their trip had been absolutely useless.

Three days later, Grantaire made the executive decision to "close up shop," as he so delicately put it. Enjolras protested heavily, but eventually even Combeferre sided with Grantaire, telling Enjolras that there was no use anymore. Éponine was simply gone.

The airport bustled with energy, propelling Enjolras' sluggish legs forward. Waiting in line to check their bags, Grantaire hastily shoved an Auntie Anne's pretzel into his mouth. "I shouldn't have bought this before going through security."

"You shaved," Combeferre noted, pointing to Enjolras' chin.

Enjolras rubbed his clean-shaven jaw, nodding. "It felt uncomfortable."

"Plus Éponine didn't really like – "

Enjolras frowned, stepping forward in line. "Shut up."

Grantaire fell silent. "Maybe she'll call again.." He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, weighing it in his hands.

"I doubt it," Enjolras replied tersely. "She's gone."

They moved forward, checking their bags in at last. Enjolras followed Combeferre into the long line for security, Grantaire falling in behind him. Grantaire and Combeferre spoke quietly amongst each other, while Enjolras blankly stared through the security section. They passed through slowly.

Grantaire tapped Enjolras' shoulder as they neared the carry-on bag check. "I know how nervous you get with these things."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he whispered. "I always feel like they're gonna find something in my bag I _did not _put in."

The security guard regarded Enjolras with an upturned eyebrow. "Bag in the container please, sir." Enjolras shuffled nervously, shoving his bag into the grey container along with his shoes. After passing through the metal detector without a hitch, he grabbed his bag and shoved his shoes on, hastening to the side to wait for Grantaire and Combeferre.

As he waited, he took in the people flying past. Color blurred before his eyes and he wondered why on earth people felt the need to be in a rush all the time. Since moving to Colorado, he'd finally understood the value of time. He'd wasted it for so long.

Grantaire got held up at the security gate – random selecting or some nonsense – so Enjolras walked to a nearby newsstand, pulling the first paper off the front of the stack. He turned his back to the stand, casually glancing over the people once more as he snapped the paper.

And then he saw her.


	15. Entwined

**A/N: I realized Saturday that I had to update today because I will be gone all day tomorrow and cannot update. I didn't really think that you would mind. ;)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: _Entwined_

.::.

_April 16__th__; Sonoma County, California._

.::.

Enjolras had always pictured their reuniting differently. In his mind, he'd pictured finding her home address and knocking on her door timidly; the opening of the door would reveal his fate, after all, and he didn't see himself being courageous in that situation, no matter how hard he tried. Sometimes, he would imagine her standing on the other side, hardly surprised to see him. She would open her arms and welcome him inside as if no time had passed since their untimely parting. Other times, she would open the door, a baby on her hip, a husband in the background watching television. And slowly, his heart would rip in two and he'd wonder why he hadn't let himself get involved with Marie or, hell, even Annie.

But every time he imagined their reuniting, no matter how it played out, he couldn't imagine her face.

He could imagine her hair, black as the night, short (as she liked it); her tan skin that complimented his pale skin perfectly; the smell of her hair – lilacs. He could imagine her child, a baby girl the spitting imagine of her: tan, chubby, bubbling with laughter. He could imagine her husband: tall, dark, brunette. Nothing like him.

But every time her face eluded him.

When he saw her but twenty yards away, leaning against a large, cylinder post, her hand clutching her brother's, he had to do a double-take; her face had been obscured by a passerby for a mere second and he just wasn't sure. But then she turned to glance at one of the coffee huts across the long middle aisle bustling with people and his heart thumped wildly.

_Yes, oh yes, it was her._

How could he have _ever_ forgotten her face?

Grantaire and Combeferre finally reached the end of the security line, ambling up to his side, talking about how shit "random selecting" was. ("It's just because I've got brown, curly hair," Grantaire whined.) Enjolras pressed the newspaper he held tightly in his hand against Combeferre's chest, his eyes locked on Éponine. The sight of a man speaking to her – tall and dark like his imaginings – did not deter him from walking forward, shoving people out-of-the-way.

"Hey! Where are you – " Grantaire raised a hand, following him several steps behind. His eyes finally found the thing, the _person _Enjolras stared at. "Fuck," he breathed, his hand dropping to his side.

Enjolras stopped fifteen yards away, his heart stopping in his chest. The man speaking to Éponine had a hand pressed against the cylinder she leaned against, just above her head. He spoke to her quietly, his mouth moving rapidly, as if his words were of the utmost importance. Éponine looked away, evidently bored. The man pulled his hand away from the cylinder, snapping in front of her face; she batted his hand away. The man threw his arms into the air and stalked away toward the McDonalds across the aisle, nudging Gavroche along with him, who looked content enough to follow for the moment.

Enjolras opened his mouth to call her name, but no sound came out. Someone's shoulder roughly connected with his own, but he didn't notice. "Buddy, move out-of-the-way!" Enjolras ignored him.

Éponine brushed the underside of her nose and looked up, finally, _finally_ looking to her left. Her eyes fell on him almost instantly. Her jaw drew down toward the floor for a few brief seconds before she pushed herself off the silver cylinder. Stumbling forward, Éponine broke into a run, her hair (longer than he remembered) flying behind her. His feet took him a step back, as if he was almost scared to know what would happen next. Chest heaving, he blinked rapidly, bracing himself for heartbreak.

Éponine shoved people out-of-the-way, her grunts telling the tale of just how much unnecessary force she used. She reached him at last and wasted no time in throwing herself into his arms. Enjolras stumbled backward when he caught her, her feet dangling inches off the floor. His right arm secured Éponine against him, his left hand threading itself through her wickedly soft hair. Her arms clung to his shoulders, her face pressed into his neck. His eyes fluttered shut as he held her closer, closer, until he could hold her closer no more.

The mumbling he'd once heard as incoherent ramblings suddenly became clear, ringing loud and true in his ears. She spoke the quintessence of her heart repeatedly, causing his soul to soar. "I love you. I love you. I love you," she whispered.

Enjolras returned her feet to the earth and pushed her back slightly, his hands skimming the sides of her cheeks, her jaw. A purple welt shined on the side of her cheekbone; his fingers focused on the skin for a moment. She smiled so brightly, outdoing the sun, the moon, the stars all at once. Enjolras swallowed hard, still in a state of awe. Éponine clutched his forearms, her eyes shining with mirth.

"You love me?" he asked, nearly timid in voice. Pressing their foreheads together, Enjolras closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Her gentle laughter opened his eyes and he pulled his forehead away. "I'm sorry," he suddenly said, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. "All we ever did was argue when – And I thought so poorly of you until – I never saw what was right – "

Éponine shook her head, putting her finger on his lips. "Don't you dare apologize," she whispered.

Enjolras smiled at last, his words ending. He held the back of her neck and kissed her just as tenderly as he had their first kiss. Well aware of all the people around, he kept it brief. Against her forehead, he whispered, "I love you."

"I hate to break up such a lovely reunion, but you've got people waiting." Grantaire's choked voice broke their bubble and Éponine pulled away from Enjolras, turning to embrace her closest friend at last.

"Grantaire, I never would have – " Éponine shook her head in disbelief as she pulled away.

He cupped his cheek in her hand. "Kiddo, I wouldn't miss this for the fucking world!"

"Ryan – " she started; the tears held behind her eyes finally broke free as Grantaire began to cry, even though a smile split his face. He shook his head, laughing harshly.

"He – he would have been here, too, you know."

Éponine nodded, feeling Enjolras' hand squeeze her shoulder. Combeferre peeked out from around Grantaire's back, waving sheepishly. "I know that, last time we spoke, things weren't very pleasant – " he started, stepping forward. Éponine threw her arms around his shoulders and he laughed, patting her back. "Oh, okay then."

Éponine drew herself away, wiping the steady flow of tears off her cheeks. The four stared at one another, bliss overriding the need for words. Éponine clutched Enjolras' hand, unable to feel enough of him. "Gavroche!" she said, suddenly remembering.

As she turned around, she was half-elated to see Gavroche, rushing forward, half-terrified because an irate Tanner followed. Gavroche wasted no time in throwing his skinny arms around Grantaire's waist. Tanner split into the group, his presence filling the space. Enjolras looked away from where his hand ran through Éponine's hair.

"Éponine, what is this?" Tanner asked, forgetting the formalities of Willie and Audrey.

"Tanner." Her breath quickened and remembering his strict form did not help. She scooted closer to Enjolras, still caught in the euphoria of their reuniting. "Tanner, this is Jack Enjolras."

Tanner frowned his hands on his hips. "And?"

Enjolras rolled his shoulders, glancing at Grantaire, who shot him a sympathetic look. "What's going on?"

Éponine turned around, pressing her hands against his chest to move him away from the group. When they were far enough away, her hands fell to grip his wrists. God, he looked different. A good different; a _more than good _different. She noted the tattoos and fingered them gently, smirking to herself. His hair was the same, the way she liked it; his eyes seemed alive, yet confused. He looked stronger, too.

"I've got cats, too, you know," he mentioned as he watched her study his wolf tattoo.

She looked up, laughing. "Really?"

"Two – Thor and Reginald. And I don't live in Maine anymore. I live in Colorado."

Éponine blinked, trying to hide her surprise. Enjolras had rarely ever even left West Bath and Augusta, much less Maine. "I live in California."

"I work at a record store."

"I don't teach anymore," she whispered, focusing her attention back on his tattoo. Her heart trembled. She had to tell him about the marriage; she couldn't hide it from him forever and she had no intention to. In fact, her intention was to leave the airport with Enjolras and never look back. She'd call Bailey, drop out of the Program, leave Tanner (Though technically her marriage with Jason had been annulled, her marriage to Tanner was a complete sham.).

"I'm married," she finally said, looking up. Enjolras only cocked his head to the side and she could tell he kept his anger under control with great effort. Gently, she reached up and touched his cheek. "Not really; I'm not really married." The relief that flooded his face comforted her. "It's all a lie, but Tanner – Tanner is my 'handler.'"

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder at the man with a phone shoved against his ear. Grantaire and Combeferre had moved away, taking Gavroche along with them. "Handler?"

Éponine nodded. "Gavroche and I are Level 2 Witnesses. We needed someone to monitor us twenty-four-seven, apparently. It's a very long story. But I'm not married."

Enjolras kissed Éponine again, longer, more ardently. He pulled away. "Then come home with me to Denver." Éponine's eyes fluttered open and she swallowed hard. He raised his eyebrows, licking his lips. "If – if you don't want to and you want to stay – " He cut himself off, unwilling to speak any further.

Éponine shook her head. "I don't want to stay here. I want – I want to come with you. I love you, Jack." Enjolras let go of a breathy sigh at the sound of his name on her lips; Éponine smirked, rubbing her hand on his arm. "I'm safe with you."

He bent forward, wrapping his arms around the small of her back. "I missed you so much."

"I bet I missed you more."

He shook his head and kissed the tip of her nose. "Lies – all of 'em."

.::.

_April 17__th__; Sonoma County, California._

.::.

They drove all the way to Colorado. To her surprise, Tanner had been more than willing to let Éponine and Gavroche drop out of the Program. ("I'm getting tired of watching you anyway," he muttered.) He'd even offered to fill out all the paperwork for her expulsion just as long as she and Gav were out of the house by the end of the week.

They were out by the end of the day thanks to the help of the boys.

'Ferre had acquired a decent sized rental truck that could fit all five of them (even though it was more than cramped when everyone and their personal belongings were in) plus a hook-up Uhaul, big enough for all of Éponine's things. Enjolras GoogleMapped the directions to Denver and soon they were off, not daring to look back; Enjolras and Grantaire in the front, Combeferre, Éponine, and Gav smushed in the back row.

"You and I can switch, if you want," Grantaire offered a couple of hours into the trip, turning around to face Éponine.

She shook her head. "No thanks."

"You sure?"

Éponine nodded, throwing her arm around Gavroche's shoulder. "Yeah." She didn't mention how she was content to stare at Enjolras through the rear-view mirror, every once and awhile catching him glance back at her.

"Well, okay." Grantaire faced forward once more.

"You know, you never said why you were in the airport," Enjolras noted, taking a sharp left that he nearly missed.

Éponine raised her eyebrows at Gavroche, who seemed too occupied by his DS to participate in the conversation. She sighed shortly. "Tanner was taking us to Washington." At this, Gavroche shut off his DS, sitting up.

"Washington state?" Enjolras asked.

Gavroche shook his head, leaning forward. "No, D.C."

Enjolras glanced in the rear-view mirror shortly. "Why?"

Gavroche took the handful of candy from Combeferre's open hand and shrugged. "He didn't like us."

Éponine looked away from the window. She placed a hand on her brother's leg. "Gav – " She hesitated in allowing Gavroche to finish. The topic of conversation felt more personal than she would have liked after only being reunited for such a short time. But she felt the stares from Combeferre and Grantaire on her shoulder, so she left him continue, hoping Enjolras would remain calm.

Gav shoved the candy into his mouth. "Tanner got angry a lot and he had a lot of rules. He didn't want to live with us anymore, so we were gonna go to D.C. so he could get a new job."

"He – he was just going to leave you there?" Grantaire turned around, his brow furrowed.

"Gavroche – " Éponine warned; she looked to the rear-view mirror. Enjolras had his hard eyes set on the road before him.

"Yeah, with Bailey. And he hit Ép, too."

Enjolras' eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror; he then refocused on the road and she could see his fingers curl tightly around the wheel. "Gavroche," she said harshly.

The young boy looked to his sister, wide-eyed. "Yeah?"

"Hush," she whispered.

Gavroche sat back meekly, shoving the rest of the candy into his mouth.

After several long, awkward moments, Grantaire pointed to a burger joint on the side of the road. "Anyone hungry?"

Enjolras pulled off without hesitation. He stepped out of the car, shoved his hands into his pockets, and stalked away, out of the parking lot. Éponine jumped out and moved to follow him, but Combeferre placed a hand on her shoulder. They watched as he walked through the adjoining Dollar Tree parking lot; he entered the store running a hand through his hair.

"Let him be for a minute, okay?" Combeferre chuckled ruefully. "You know how he is when he's emotional."

She shook her head, already stepping toward the store. "I've been away too long to just let him go." She ran into Dollar General quickly finding him sorting through birthday cards. Timidly, she approached him; she placed a hand on his elbow and he turned, blinking when he saw her. "Is it someone's birthday?"

Enjolras shook his head, pushing the card back into its holder. "No."

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked quietly.

Enjolras ran a hand over his face. "He hit you?"

Éponine nodded. "Only once."

Enjolras faced her, holding her face in her hands. "That's – I – " He shook his head, closing his eyes. "It doesn't matter if it was once, twice, thrice." Éponine smirked, licking her lips. "He should have been protecting you."

"I know." Éponine looked up, raising her eyebrows. "But I'm safe now, right?"

"Of – of course." Enjolras kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her back.

Éponine rested her chin on his chest, looking up. "I'm hungry."

Enjolras sighed deeply, rubbing her shoulders. "Well, let's go eat then."

* * *

**There it is! :D Reunited at last. Tell me what you thought. **

**Also, I'm not sure this story is going to be twenty chapters after all. Maybe eighteen. The final story will begin a week or two after this one ends and, like I've said before, it'll definitely be longer.**

**Jess**


	16. Confessions

**A/N: This chapter was partially inspired by the latest chapter of 'Renegade' by **_**insignificantramblings **_**(omg, I love her)****. ****Read the shit out of the story if you haven't yet; so good.**

**(Also, shameful plug for my new canon era story **_**Devoted Souls**_** which I posted Monday and is updating either later tonight or tomorrow.)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: _Confessions_

.::.

_April 23__rd__; Denver Colorado._

.::.

Éponine woke up to the sound of Enjolras leaving the bed. She blinked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, stretching with a low moan. Enjolras walked to the window and pushed open the curtains, placing his hands on his hips. The early morning sunlight framed his bare upper-body with an almost god-like glow. Éponine pulled herself up onto her elbow, running her opposite hand through her hair.

Enjolras turned away from the window. "Good morning."

Éponine smiled. "Morning."

He moved to sit on the side of the bed, brushing his fingertips over Éponine's shoulder. "Do you think we were too – "

"– loud last night?" Éponine smirked, raising her eyebrows. Enjolras colored slightly, looking toward the closed-door of his bedroom. Éponine shrugged, falling onto her back. "Probably."

Enjolras rested on his side, placing his hands beneath his head. He studied Éponine's face as she stared at the ceiling, playing with the top of the sheet. She turned her head and smiled brightly. "I'm glad I'm here."

"I'm glad you're here, too." Enjolras took Éponine's hand in his own. After a moment, he asked, "Do you want breakfast?"

Éponine nodded and bent down, throwing Enjolras' oversized, discarded t-shirt over her small frame. Enjolras gulped at the sight, pulling on sweatpants. Éponine pointed to his back tattoo as she ran a brush throughout her hair.

"I like that – I think I forgot to mention it."

Enjolras grinned and kissed her cheek. "You inspired it, partially." He opened the door for her, following her quietly into the kitchen. In the living room, Gavroche slept soundly on the new pull-out couch Enjolras had bought. He'd apologized that he couldn't get anything better, but Gav found the contraption amazing and was happy to sleep on it, especially since it folded up in the morning. The two cats were curled up at his side.

Éponine smiled at the sight, pulling out a pan to cook eggs in as quietly as she could. "Really?"

Enjolras nodded, leaning against the counter. "Yeah."

"What do you mean by revolution?" She turned on the stove-top. "Hand me the eggs please."

Enjolras opened the fridge and handed her the half-empty container. "Well, I'm not sure, actually." He laughed to himself, shaking his head.

Cracking four eggs into the frying pan, Éponine rolled her eyes. "Typical."

Enjolras scoffed, stepping up behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You inspired it, though. That's gotta mean something, right?"

She turned her head and kissed him softly. "I'm glad I'm here."

"You already said that."

"Can't I say it again?"

Enjolras pulled away and leaned against the counter. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off when Gavroche walked into the kitchen, his hair sticking every which way. "Morning," he grumbled.

"How did you sleep?" Éponine ruffled his hair, worsening his bed-head. She poured him a glass of orange juice and took the eggs off of the stove.

Gav shrugged and climbed onto one of the bar-stools. "Pretty well."

Enjolras raised his eyebrows at Éponine, smirking. "Yeah?"

"The neighbors were pretty loud though, I think," he yawned. "They kept yelling."

Éponine laughed while Enjolras colored brightly, clapping his hands together. "Okie-dokie! We've got stuff to do today, kids, so eat up!"

.::.

_April 23__rd__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

Living with Enjolras, Gavroche, and two highly needy cats in a one bedroom apartment started to grate on Éponine's nerves on the third day. Grantaire and Combeferre had put themselves up in a motel down the street and planned on staying until Éponine was completely settled in; and when they came over during the day, the apartment was more than cramped. Of course, Éponine was more than thrilled to be living with Enjolras at last, but over the course of three days, she'd nearly gone insane. She'd grown so accustomed to having her own space away from Gavroche and Jason or Tanner. That space being gone frightened her. It wasn't an added plus that she'd already figured out his gross habits.

For one, Enjolras didn't cap the toothpaste. Each morning without fail, after breakfast, she would head to the bathroom to take a shower and on the counter rested a twisted, disgustingly dirty toothpaste bottle. Secondly, he snored. And his soccer cleats (She didn't even know that he played soccer.) stunk to the high heavens. And sometimes he would forget to clean the litter box.

Gavroche, too, made himself at home quickly. He would forget to push his bed back in, thus leaving the living room practically unusable. He would leave his clothes scattered all over the floor.

Éponine needed clean. She needed order. After living in a dump her whole childhood, cleanliness was definitely next to godliness in her book.

That's why, after a long conversation her second night in Denver, Enjolras and Éponine agreed to start looking for a larger apartment. It was daunting and Grantaire thought they were moving too fast, but Éponine didn't know how much more she could take of the litter box stinking up the house and Gavroche's shirts hanging on the couch.

Their real-estate agent, Angel Takers, took the trio into the heart of Denver, which immediately made Enjolras a little put off. He'd explicitly mentioned how low their budget was and how uninterested he was living in the city: too expensive, too loud. He'd lived in West Bath all of his life and grown accustomed to the quietness. While the suburbs of Denver were no ideal, he'd enjoyed it thus far.

Standing in the middle of a four bedroom apartment, Éponine listened avidly to the words Angel said about the assets of the apartment, while Enjolras picked at a small hole in the wall, and Gavroche laid on the bare hardwood floors.

"There's also hookups for a washer and dryer in the hall closet." Angel finished her speech, smiling triumphantly.

Éponine glanced at Enjolras, and then back at Angel. "What's the rent?"

Angel sucked in a low breath. "Well," she drew out the word and Enjolras rolled his eyes, clasping his hands behind his back; Éponine shot him a playful glare. "It's a little over budget."

Enjolras grasped Gavroche's shoulder as the young boy attempted to run past him. "Just how much over budget?"

"Three hundred." Angel raised her eyebrows.

Éponine blew out a deep breath, turning around. Enjolras shook his head and she nodded. "That's too much. It's a lovely apartment, but we can't afford that. What about the suburbs?"

"That is what we asked for," Enjolras said, pursing his lips.

Éponine widened her eyes. "_Jack_."

Angel colored slightly. "I apologize. We – we can of course go to the suburbs. Unfortunately, I don't have any apartments available today."

"We understand." Éponine took Enjolras hand and smiled up at his stone cold face.

Angel nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "How about Thursday?"

"Thursday is fine." Éponine fought the urge to wince; four days.

Angel adjusted her briefcase and headed to the door. "In that case, let me lock up this place and we'll call it day."

.::.

_April 23__rd__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

Éponine rested her head on Enjolras' chest, blowing out a deep breath. "I'm sorry about today," she whispered.

Enjolras itched the side of his head and sighed. "Just forget about it."

"Jack, talk to me," Éponine said, repositioning her head so she could see his face clearly. "What's on your mind?"

"That dumb-ass woman."

"Hey!" She swatted his shoulder, chuckling. "She's trying to help us, you know?"

Enjolras nodded, leaning his head back on the headboard. He closed his eyes. "Maybe we shouldn't move."

Éponine blinked several times, looking away. She sat up after a moment and nodded. "We don't have to, yeah."

He was quiet for a long time. "But you want to?"

Éponine shrugged. She turned around to face him. "We don't have to," she repeated.

Enjolras frowned. "But you want to." This time, it wasn't a question. Éponine nodded slowly. "I know it's cramped here, Éponine, but – " He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "– honestly we don't have the money. My job – the pay is shit."

Éponine placed a hand on his knee, smiling softly. "Enjolras, we don't have to move. Anywhere you are, I'm happy, okay?"

Enjolras held her elbows, pulling her closer. He kissed her softly, running his hand through her hair. "I want to give you more. You deserve more."

Éponine shook her head, laughing softly. "Stop talking, please." She kissed him again, pulling herself up to settle on his lap. Enjolras sat up straight, running his hands up the back of her thin cotton shirt. Éponine groaned slightly and Enjolras moved his lips to her neck.

"Hey, Enj?"

He hummed in response.

"You – you remember how I was living with Tanner?"

He nodded against her neck.

"Before Tanner – " She paused to take a breath. "– there was Jason and – " She pushed him away from her for a moment; both breathed heavily. "and we almost... fucked."

Enjolras hands fell away from her back. "What?"

She blinked, grabbing onto his shoulders. "It was once and – and after we'd been living together as a married couple for half a year. It just kind of... happened."

Enjolras licked his lips slowly, doing his best to remain calm. While the idea of Éponine almost fucking someone other than him bothered him to the core, he remembered how he'd nearly fucked Grantaire's sister Christmas day.

Éponine moved away, sitting by Enjolras' side. "I know. I shouldn't have done it, but it was in the heat of the moment. And I was so scared because of everything – "

Enjolras silenced her with a kiss. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against hers, smirking. "I almost fucked Grantaire's sister."

Éponine frowned for a moment before laughing. Enjolras joined in with her and soon they were having trouble seeing through their tears. Éponine lay in the middle of the bed, facing the ceiling; she stopped laughing, wiping the tears from her eyes. Enjolras rested his head on Éponine's stomach. Éponine pressed her hand into his hair, sighing.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too."

* * *

**This chapter was incredibly hard to write. I'm sorry that it's so short.**

**There's only two chapters left of Book 2, but I will be unable to update until next Wednesday! I am completely swamped with the end of the school and want to give you guys the best. I'm sorry! (Literally, I have four projects due before the last day, plus I missed two days this week and I have a shit ton of make-up work.)  
**

**See you next week!**


	17. Abbie Ann's

**A/N: I updated today because I had time. Next week, I should be on a regular-ish schedule. Update Monday (possibly Tuesday) because that's the last chapter and then the last book will begin the following Monday. (At least, that's what I'm shooting for.)**

**I hit a block with this chapter because I have no more plan for this edition. I know what I'm doing in the last chapter, but this chapter, I had zero plan. So, it kind of jumps around a lot. Sorry about that! Thank you for all your continued support!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: _Abbie Ann's_

.::.

_April 30__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

They sat on top of the apartment building. Combeferre and Grantaire had made the announcement of their plan to leave earlier that morning and so the rest of the day had been spent mini-golfing and playing laser tag. Gavroche lounged on the rock-covered roof, tossing rocks over the side into the alleyway. Éponine rested her head on Enjolras' leg, eating an apple.

"It's going to be weird not seeing you guys," Combeferre said, leaning back on his palms.

Éponine smiled up at Enjolras, who returned her grin with a soft smile of his own. "You could stay," she said, looking back at 'Ferre.

The man laughed, shaking his head. "I've got a steady job. Nearly lost it coming here, by the way."

"I'm glad that you came, though." Enjolras nodded toward his friend.

"You know, this doesn't all have to be sappy," Grantaire commented, standing up. He brushed off his legs and motioned Gavroche forward. The boy inched away from the edge of the roof and came to Grantaire's side. "I propose that we make a pact."

"A pact?" Éponine sat up, intrigued.

Grantaire rolled his eyes and placed a hand on Gavroche's head. "Yes, a pact." He nodded once and beckoned everyone to stand up; they followed his urgings. "The five of us have seen a lot of turmoil in the past few months – " Éponine slipped her hand into Enjolras'. "– so, in five months, we meet up again here in Colorado to celebrate how far we've come."

Enjolras shared an amused glance with Éponine, playfully rolling his eyes.

"Hey! If you're not going to take this seriously – "

Éponine shook her head. "I'm taking it seriously, 'Taire!"

Grantaire raised his eyebrow and Gavroche laughed behind his hands. "_Anyway._" He stuck his hand into the center of the semicircle they'd formed. "Come on! Everyone do it."

Gavorche sniggered as he stuck both his hands in the circle eagerly. Combeferre shoved one hand into his pocket and the other into the circle, muttering "Why not?" Éponine smiled at Grantaire, her heart clenching; she, too, stuck her hand in the circle.

All heads turned toward Enjolras.

He shook his head. "No, this is ridiculous."

Grantaire shook his head, nudging Gavroche. "Spoil sport." Gavroche's eyes widened and he laughed.

Éponine frowned up at him, cocking her head toward the ring. "Do it," she hissed.

Begrudgingly, Enjolras stuck his hand into the circle. "Fine."

Triumphantly, Grantaire grinned. "Five months."

"Five months," Combeferre repeated.

"Five months," Gavroche piped.

"Five months."

Enjolras briefly stared at Éponine and then nodded. "Five months."

.::.

_April 30__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

"Can I tell you something, 'Taire?" Éponine asked, throwing a pebble into the alleyway. The rock clattered off of a dumpster, echoing.

For a moment, Grantaire didn't respond. "Sure."

After the pact was made, the night air had grown chilly extremely fast. Combeferre wanted to show Gavroche an old arcade game inside and Enjolras said he wanted to see it as well. That left Éponine and Grantaire alone on the roof. Since they'd arrived in Colorado, the two had had little to no time personal time together. She'd seen him nearly every day, but she hadn't been able to get him alone. Sitting up on the rooftop, their feet dangling over the edge, the lights from the city shining in the distance, it felt almost like old times.

"I was with Ryan when he died."

Grantaire looked up, shaking his head. "He got killed in a drive by."

Éponine shook her head contritely, sighing. "No, that was just a cover up."

Running a hand over his jaw, Grantaire blinked, chewing on his bottom lip. "Then what happened?"

Éponine hesitated. She was sure Ryan's death was classified information. One of the WPP's own agents had killed a civilian. But Éponine wouldn't ever see Jason again, Tanner was long gone, and Bailey probably didn't care about her anymore. Just another case closed.

"He was shot, yes, but not in a drive by. My husband – " Éponine froze, the word stopping in her throat. She'd never referred to Jason as her husband before, even though it was true. Grantaire frowned deeper, cocking his head to the side.

"Husband?"

She blinked, nodding. Her words came out shaky. "My first 'protector' – his name was Jason. We were legally married for about half a year. Um, anyway, one night – Well, I've got these nightmares about my parents and they got really bad while I was in Texas. Jason would sleep with me and – "

Grantaire couldn't help but smirk. Éponine blushed, swatting his arm.

"We just slept!"

"Sure!" Grantaire raised his eyebrows.

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes and continued, despite her beating heart. "_And _one night, when my nightmares were really bad, I woke up and Jason was, like, half-sitting up. Ryan had found out where we lived and for some reason he though it would be a good idea to crawl through the open window in the middle of the night instead of waiting till morning." She paused to catch her breath; Grantaire had looked up, his fingers gripping the edge of the building. "Jason thought it was an intruder – _I _thought he was an intruder, too. Before I could stop him, Jason pulled out his gun and shot him."

"Then what?" Grantaire whispered.

"He fell into the room and basically bled out. He died in – " Éponine shook her head; she wiped at her damp cheeks. "He died in my arms."

"I sort of figured you knew what happened," Grantaire said, pulling a cigarette box and lighter out of his pocket. He stuck one in his mouth and Éponine declined the one he offered her. Lighting it, Grantaire took a long drag and squinted.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because when he left because he found you, I had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't come home. Messing with the government – messing with _June_, rather – that's some serious stuff." He shook his head, scoffing. "Plus, I didn't believe that drive by shit for a second. Ryan – he was barely one-hundred-and-sixty pounds, scrawny as fuck, and white as fuck. Why would anyone want to kill him?"

"I guess that's why they said drive by."

Grantaire shook his head and stuck the cigarette back in his mouth. "No, not Ryan."

"Does that – Does knowing what happened make you feel any better?"

"No."

Éponine looked away. "Oh."

Grantaire chuckled. "It's nothing against you, but I'd really, _really _like to find that Jason guy."

Éponine looked up, her brows pinching together. "It was an accident, Grantaire."

He nodded, crossing his legs beneath him. "Ryan and I weren't really that public with our relationship, you know? West Bath is pretty – pretty strict about that kind of stuff, I guess. We hardly went on dates and – It was different than how I would have liked for it to be."

"You always seemed happy to me?"

"It's not that we weren't happy. We were! Before you came along, we were stuck in this pool of boring. We'd even talked about moving out of Maine to somewhere like Vegas – at least things happen there." Grantaire sighed and shrugged. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that, I would have been okay living in West Bath, as long as Ry would have been there."

Éponine leaned her head against Grantaire's shoulder. "I miss him, too."

There was a long pause. Grantaire laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. "Yeah, me too."

Éponine wrapped her arms around him, fighting back tears. "Do you have to go?"

Grantaire wrapped an arm around her shoulder and leaned his head against the top of hers. "Yeah, kiddo. I think I do." He kissed her hair gently, closing his eyes.

"Why?" Éponine smirked, wiping a tear off her cheek. "I don't think I can do this without you."

Grantaire pulled back, scoffing. "Look at you! You've lived half a year without me. I think you can go another five months." He winked and nudged her shoulder. "Besides, you've got that hunk of meat downstairs to love on." He wiggled his eyebrows, nodding vigorously.

Éponine laughed. "Yeah, I suppose he'll have to do."

"What's your middle name, by the way?" Grantaire asked, standing up. He offered Éponine his hand and she took it, standing up with slight effort.

"Marie. Why?" They began walking toward the door that would lead them back into the apartment building.

Grantaire shrugged and held open the door for her when they reached it. "I was just wondering. And what was your husband's name again?"

Éponine sighed, rolling her eyes. "Jason Renolds."

Grantaire nodded, making a mental nod he _knew _he would return to. "Gotcha."

.::.

_May 2__nd__; Washington D.C._

.::.

For Jason, readjusting to life without Éponine wasn't easy. He'd lost his job with the Program, and since the government wouldn't hire him for the time being, he resorting to becoming a bartender. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to be doing, but it was a paying job.

Éponine had given him something to work for, a brand new life. He wasn't sure exactly what that meant to him; he didn't know if he loved her, if he simply missed her company. Either way, he was miserable.

When Abbie Ann's was empty, Jason rarely had anything to do. He usually sat behind the counter and read a book or watched the game on TV; but when it was bustling, he had practically no time to sit down and rest his feet. On one of those evenings, while he poured beer after beer and shook drink after drink, he wasn't surprised when yet another small party walked through the door. Two other bartenders were on duty and they were as equally as busy.

Three young men walked to the corner of the counter and took three bar-stools. Jason waved his hand to them, shouting, "I'll just be a moment!" One of the men nodded, turning back to his conversation. Jason filled one more order and then went to the three men. "What can I get you?"

"Three beers, please," a man, brown hair, clear eyes, strong build, said. Jason nodded, but remained a moment, trying to place where he'd seen the man before. The man shot him an annoyed glance, and the two others regarded him with similar looks.

Jason straightened. "I'll get those for you." Jason turned on his heel, choosing to pour from the taps closest to the three men. In the back of his head, there was a niggling sense of recognition. He listened in on their conversation with straining ears, but only caught bits and pieces.

"– Maine. I _told _you, Ben."

"You're wrong. I'm telling you – "

"Stop. Stop arguing, _please_."

"Adam, you're not in this."

"Here's your drinks." Jason set them down, wiping down the side of the counter. He turned away, but kept close, his intrigue heightened. A young girl, batting her eyelashes at him, asked for another margarita. "Sure," he whispered.

As he fixed her drink, he continued to listen.

"– brother – eleven, I think."

"Her dad isn't going – "

"I _know_."

"People are staring – "

"_Adam_."

"Okay, okay, geez."

One of the men sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm only doing what you think is best."

"Then listen to me, okay? _God_."

"Okay."

Jason moved away, still wracking his brain. He recognized that face – the one with the clear eyes and brown hair. Halfway away from the trio, he turned swiftly on his heel; he remembered. When he turned around, he stared straight at the one he remembered.

"Max," he breathed.

* * *

**Well, damn. Tell me how you feel!**


	18. Freedom

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: _Freedom_

.::.

_May 2__nd__; Washington, D.C._

.::.

Contrary to what his mother believed, Adam Zooker did not hang out with Ben 'Parnasse and Max Landon because he liked beating people up and selling drugs. He'd never beat anyone up (except for once in the third grade, but that was _third_ grade.) and he'd only ever smoked weed once. Adam had a newborn son and a wife to care for; he couldn't dawdle in what his friends did.

But they were just that – his _friends. _

So, when Ben stood up from the bar and grabbed the waiter as he walked away to fill another order, he stood up, too. The waiter struggled and dropped the tray in his hands onto the ground; the glasses shattered, beer splattering up onto the hem of his pants. Ben pushed the waiter out the front door, ignoring the hollering of the patrons and other staff. Max and Adam followed behind.

Ben grabbed the waiter's collar and shoved him up against an alley-wall. "What did you say?"

The waiter's toes barely scraped the street, gripping 'Parnasse's wrist, tipping his head upwards to try to receive more air. "Max – " His eyes flashed toward Max, who stood close by, his arms crossed, eyes slightly concerned.

'Parnasse cocked his head toward the waiter, staring intently at Max. "You know this guy?"

Max dropped his arms and shrugged, extending an open hand to the waiter. "Let him go, Ben." 'Parnasse huffed and dropped the waiter. He bent forward, rubbing his neck. "How do you know my name?"

The waiter straightened and cleared his throat. "I – I know – _knew _someone you used to."

"Who?"

The waiter continuously rubbed his neck. "My name is Jason."

Max sighed and took several steps forward. "I didn't ask for your name. I asked for the person I 'used' to know."

Jason remained silent. He thought briefly of Éponine and how on one evening she'd told him of her life in West Bath, how she'd told him of her drug addicted boyfriend, and how she'd ended their relationship while he was in the hospital. She'd spoken of not feeling any remorse for the action and how awful she'd felt about _not _feeling bad. She'd shown him the picture her once-best-friend Adrienne had sent her; she'd pointed out Max and Adam, the man who stood far behind, twiddling his fingers nervously. Based on the reaction Ben had showed him for just knowing Max's name, Jason wasn't about to tell them about Éponine anytime soon. Something wasn't right between the trio – Jason couldn't place it, but he could feel it.

He curled his hands defiantly, wetting his lips.

"Well, who is it?" Max took another step closer. In the dim light of the evening and the light from the streetlamp, Jason could make out a neck tattoo spelling out the word 'FREAK' and ear-piercing. He furrowed his brow; Max didn't look good with either.

"Obviously, he doesn't want to – " Adam finally stepped forward, touching Montparnasse on the shoulder hesitantly. The unofficial-official leader of the trio turned around, annoyed.

"What, Adam? You gonna act like a sissy, again?" 'Parnasse's nostrils flared in anger and Adam swallowed, shaking his head; he took a step back. "That's what I fucking thought." He turned back around, crossing his arms. "Geez Louise."

Adam shuffled on his toes, pulling out his cellphone. "I need to call Claire."

'Parnasse waved a hand. "Whatever." Adam walked away, his footsteps echoing in the alleyway. "Max, he doesn't look like he wants to talk."

Max smirked, staring holes into Jason's eyes. His underarms and forehead began to perspire. Jason wished for a moment that he could have kept his big mouth shut. "I know." Max nodded, cracking his knuckles.

"I guess we could make him talk?" 'Parnasse suggested, shrugging.

"Sounds like a grand idea."

'Parnasse shoved Max out-of-the-way and grabbed Jason's collar again, pushing his up against the wall. The back of his shirt rode up, his flesh digging into the brick wall. Jason's face screwed up tightly and his hand latched onto 'Parnasse's wrist once more.

"Look, it's a little fuckin' creepy that you know Max's name, okay? I think you can understand that." Jason nodded, his feet dangling high off the ground. "Now, we're not looking for any trouble. We're just three honest, hard working guys, looking for a poor, lost soul."

"Yeah, I – "

'Parnasse's grip tightened and he stepped forward, his eyes level with Jason's. "I didn't say speak," his voice growled, though to Jason, it boomed. "We've been on the road for about a week now – Adam's wife just had their baby and he ain't even _seen _it yet. We're tired and fed up."

"Ben, cut to the damn chase," Max urged, checking over his shoulder.

'Parnasse held up his opposite hand to silence Max, his eyes hardening. "I'm gonna ask you one more time, because I'm a pretty nice guy: who is it Max used to know?"

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. God, he was dumb.

"Okie-dokie then. Max, you can have the honors." 'Parnasse dropped his collar and Jason fell to his knees on the asphalt, coughing.

The first blow to his stomach came from the business end of a boot. He felt something inside revolt and he gagged, his knees wobbling as he attempted to stand. A fisted hand slammed onto the base of his neck and he went sprawling out onto the ground, resembling an eagle when he landed. Someone stepped on his wrist, pulling him over onto his back with the opposite arm. He heard a faint pop and white dots swam before his eyes. After that, it was hits and blows to whatever exposed skin they could find.

Jason didn't remember much; he just remembered how much it hurt when he woke up in the hospital at least a day later. His face looked like it had been sent through a meat grinder: purple, bruised, swollen. His shoulder had been dislocated and three ribs broken. Other than that, though, he was fine; weak, but fine.

His assailants had been kind enough to call the ambulance for him, but they left – calm and collected – before it came. At least he hadn't talked.

At least, he didn't think he had talked.

Really it was all a blur.

He'd been informed of Éponine's relocation to California right before it happened. Bailey – her ex-supervisor – had warned Jason that it was likely she would drop out of the Program altogether. Her new protector, Tanner, had been called in twice by two previous witnesses on accounts of physical and emotional abuse. He'd been reviewed, but found innocent. Bailey had his suspicions, though. So he'd alerted Jason of the change, telling him it was just in case she came his way or he needed extra help.

That was the last he'd heard, though.

If he'd told Max and 'Parnasse where she was, she was in deep,_ deep _trouble. And so was he.

.::.

_May 4__th__; Denver, Colorado._

.::.

Éponine looked up from her laptop when the front door opened. Enjolras walked in, shrugging off his suit jacket. "How'd it go?" she asked, leaning back against the couch.

He threw his suit jacket on the back of one of the bar-stools and shrugged, leaning against the counter. "I got the job."

Éponine stood up, rushing into his arms; Enjolras folded her against his chest. "That's great, Jack!" She pulled back, tapping his chest lightly. "I knew you could do it."

Enjolras chuckled, moving out of her grasp. He grabbed himself a beer from the fridge and popped the cap off. "The interview was easy. I was pretty confident."

"Good! When do you start?" Éponine returned to her spot on the floor, crossing her legs beneath her.

Enjolras had just finished his interview for one of Denver's most prestigious law firms. He'd noticed an open lawyer position specifically centered on child cases and immediately called the law firm, earning an interview two days later. He'd quit his job at the record store, riding on his law degree and letters of recommendation from June and a former professor.

"Tomorrow – nine to five. Starting at seventy thousand a year." He plopped down on the couch, throwing an arm over the back; he took a long swig of his beer.

Éponine rested her chin in the palm of her hand. "That's not too shabby," she said, an air of amusement about her voice.

"No, not at all." He winked, licking his lips. "Gav's at school?"

Éponine nodded. "Yeah, for the first time in a long time. It seems useless, since school'll be done in a month, but he's already so far behind and I can't home-school him." She shook her head, turning back to the laptop. "He rarely went to school after Christmas. Everything happened so fast and..." She trailed off, narrowing her eyes.

Enjolras nodded, crossing an ankle over his knee; he cleared his throat. "And what are you doing there?" He pointed toward the computer screen.

She colored slightly. "Looking for a job, as well. I'm bored," she admitted.

Enjolras patted the place beside him and Éponine curled up by his side, pulling the laptop onto her lap. "Teaching, I assume?" He rubbed his hand over her shoulder, fingering the edge of her t-shirt.

"No, actually. There's an opening for receptionist at the Denver Modern Art Museum."

Enjolras raised his eyebrows. "Why not teaching? Isn't it – "

Éponine shook her head, looking back at the screen. "Too painful."

Enjolras kissed her temple. "I understand," he whispered. "I think you'll make a good receptionist, if you ask me."

Éponine rolled her eyes. "It's not my dream job, but I could get promoted to Facilitator because of my art degree, you know, and that pays a heck of a lot more than receptionist." She moved to close the laptop lid after pressing 'send' on the Job Application page, but Enjolras stopped her.

"What's this?" he asked, taking the laptop from her hands; he glanced at her with an amused smirk. "House hunting, I see."

Éponine grabbed the laptop, slamming it shut, her cheeks a dark red. "Sorry," she apologized, pushing the loose hair behind her ear.

"What's there to apologize for?"

"We just kind of stopped looking for another apartment. I thought I'd start looking again." She stood up, brushing her hands on her shorts.

Enjolras stood up, stopping her before she could make a beeline for the bathroom. He grabbed her upper arms, peering down at her eye-line. "Don't apologize, Éponine, okay? This apartment is the size of a shoebox and you share one bathroom with two boys and two cats. I understand." He chuckled and kissed her softly.

Éponine rolled her eyes, pulling back to stare him in the face. "I actually like how cozy this place is, I don't mind the bathroom, and I adore the cats. We don't have the money right now." She kissed his chin and pulled away. "Besides, the small bathroom is pretty useful if you ask me."

Enjolras chuckled, catching her hand before she completely pulled away. "Is that so?"

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "It had dual use, you know? It can clean two people at once."

Enjolras' chest clenched for a moment, but then he caught her by the waist and flung her over his shoulder. "We'd better make use of that feature then!"

.::.

_May 10__th__; S.S. Penitentiary, Florida._

.::.

He'd escaped from prison before – twice, actually.

Arnold Thenardier – a.k.a. Tank – had been running the well-known, highly successful gang The Tear Clan since his early twenties. They dabbled in pretty much everything: petty thefts, drugs, fraud, prostitution, even murder. In total, the gang spanned over the entire east coast, and even from prison, Thenadier kept a tight hold. Several of the young, up-and-coming leaders of The Tear Clan had broken off several years before, creating the Patron-Minette under Thenardier's guidance.

So breaking out of prison wasn't exactly the unknown for him. He'd done it dozens of times in county jails and lower security prisons.

Sunshine State Penitentiary, one of the hardest and oldest prisons in the state, lacked one thing: razor wire. It was ridiculous, really; it was almost _too _easy to get out. He left during his shower hour. Instead of heading right down the corridor that lead to the showers, he turned left, heading down a long dark hall rarely used by anyone. For three weeks he'd been corresponding with his right hand man, Jackson Clark, and Ben Montparnasse, and he knew, the moment he pushed open the door at the end of the hall, he had exactly three minutes to run across the yard and scale the fence. If he made it, he'd be free. If he didn't, he'd be sent to The Hole.

Flexing his fingers, Thenardier reached the door and rolled his neck. He pushed open and door and for a split second blinked to adjust to the darkness outside. But then he composed himself. For a relatively older man, he could run faster than any high-school student. He sprinted across the yard, well-aware that his time was running out.

Soon, he was able to make out the fence. In one of the watchtowers, he heard an aggravated shout. Fingers shaking, he grabbed the metal fence and climbed it quickly, his fingers nearly slipping. A hundred yards away, hidden in the dark of a grove of trees, he heard Clark urge him on. Thenardier jumped over the fence just as the search light turned on. He stumbled, falling to one knee for a moment. Staggering up, he rushed toward the already-moving pick-up truck.

It spun around, the passenger door flung open. Thenardier jumped in, falling against Clark at the wheel with a forceful smack. He pulled himself up and slapped at the dashboard, yelling, "Hurry! Hurry, you shit!"

Clark sped away through the grove of trees. He breathed heavily, covered in sweat. Once sure that they were miles away from the penitentiary, he began to relax. From the back of the car, Ben touched his shoulder.

"We found her, Tank."

Thenardier rolled down the window slowly, sticking his arm out. "You what?"

"We found them – Éponine and Gavroche."

He raised his eyebrows, rearranging himself. "Good. Where are they?"

"California. We found her protector from the – "

Thenardier held up a hand, silencing him. "I didn't ask for a full explanation, Ben. But you did good work. We'll head for California first thing tomorrow."

* * *

**Aw dang. Well, that's the end of 'Voyage.' Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews; you all are so amazing! The next and final book, entitled 'Legacy,' will be posted next Wednesday. Look for it then. Also, since today was the last day of school (finally), make sure you check my page for information about new stories and such.**

**Thanks again.**

**Jess**


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